I press harder on the pedal, watching the needle rise. A little farther. A little faster.
I try not to look in the mirror. Can’t look. Can’t watch. Can’t see.
It’s happening again. The change in the wind. The shift in the tides.
I have to make it home. I have to make it home before the storm hits.
Racing against time, racing against nature…racing against myself.
It’s only a matter of time. I’ll be gone soon, with only me in my place. The other me.
The other one, who lives for chaos and danger. The other one, who lives in pain.
Some day this storm will pass. They always do. But first it will rage.
It will rain down. There will be thunder and lightning. Fast and furious.
I have to make it home before the storm hits. Lock the doors. Bunker down.
Just a little farther. Just a little faster.
But I can’t beat the storm. I’ll never drive fast enough.
I won’t be safe at home. I won’t.
The storm is within me.
And there is nowhere to run.