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Suicidal, much?

Should be dead, but I’m not.

Got that going for me.

At least.

My eyes track through the porche’s interior. I stare for a ridiculous amount of time at the window beside me.

It’s closed.

My arm lays in my lap. I can’t feel it there, but I can see it there.

Rumble.

Wait…did I…was that all some weird dream?

What the fuck is going on?

My heart thunders away in my chest. The fuck am I going to get out of this if I don’t know what’s real and what’s not?

I close my hand into a fist. Stronger than I thought…why?

It was a dream.

Or something close to it.

Maybe a warning.

From the other side.

My lips curl into a sardonic smile.

Thanks, Mom.

I muster what little strength I have and fall over onto my side. Now the Porche’s ignition is just a foot away. I manage to grab onto the key the second time around. The car dies.

There’s less gas down here.

Guess I haven’t been in here very long. Probably took Dad some time to put this all together.

Just let it happen, Jo.

Go to sleep, never wake up.

And I probably would have. But there’s more at stake than my mind, my ego, my consciousness.

Candy.

If she’s still alive, then I need to save her.

If she’s dead, then I need to avenge her.

And the only way either of that’s happening, is with me getting the fuck out of this catch twenty-two.

Two.

Two cars.