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You can never be too careful in these situations. Even if I’m overthinking it.
I come to a junction and hit the brakes when a car flashes past. Jesus. A BMW. No surprises there.
The suspicious car comes to a halt behind me as someone picks up.
“The Metropolitan Police Emergency Department, how might I help?”
“There’s a weird car without headlights following me,” I say as I hit the accelerator again, pushing the car forward with sudden speed. My body flings backward as the tires screech.
“I need you to remain calm, miss. May I have your name?”
“Ava…Ava Nash.”
“Can I call you Ava?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you tell me where you are, Ava?”
“I don’t know exactly. Near the M25, hold on—” I steal a look at the GPS, and the next thing I hear is the loud, unbearable blaring of a lorry’s horn before its bright lights blind me.
I turn the steering wheel as hard as I can while hitting the brakes. My car swerves as I spin round and round and then a sickening crash resounds in my ears.
The last thing I see are the eyes that follow me everywhere.
Dark. Cold. Destructive.
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AVA
Abitter taste sticks to the back of my dry throat.
I cough but choke, the sound leaving my lungs in long, torturous heaves.
Darkness materializes around me with depressing finality and I completely lose any sense of my physical body.
I don’t know where I am.
My surroundings dive into pitch-blackness.
My head follows suit as tendrils of shadowy hands grab hold of me.
A strangled sound gets trapped in my belly and the tight noose of a panic attack wraps around my throat.
No…
No…
No.
I blink my eyes open, and slowly, almost like a slow-motion true crime documentary, the grainy colors of reality engulf me.
The light condensation against the oxygen mask strapped to my face comes first, followed by bright-white walls.
Darkness recedes in my peripheral vision with a snake-like motion, and with it, my awareness trickles back in.
A beeping machine.
