The Wreckage

Inspired by the Vanessa Carlton song of the same title.

 

She blinked.  His expression remained unchanged: friendly, but malevolent somehow.  Made him all the more intimidating.  He reached out to brush his fingers through her hair and she instantly slapped him away, glaring into his dark eyes and seeing past the gentle smile on his freckled face.

 

She blinks.  The setting sun in her rearview burns her eyes if she looks at it for too long.  Instead she focuses on the rhythm of the engine, the empty stretch of highway before her, vanishing into nothingness in the distance.  The eastern horizon is stained deep purple, gradually bleeding into cold blues above her head.  A few scattered stars peek through the dark shroud as she speeds along the pavement.  The wind is tangling her long blonde hair, no longer confined to the scarf that now lies miles behind on the side of the road.  The sun finally sinks into the ocean and the world goes gray.

 

She turned to look in the mirror. Touched the tender skin below her eye.  Watched the violet bloom on the apple of her cheek.  He was calling her downstairs.  The guests would be arriving soon, and she still had two courses to prepare and a table to set and wine to chill.  She pulled out her compact and concealer.  His voice rose, thundered in her ears, drew closer as he marched up the stairs.

 

The road is dark except for the far-off twinkling of headlights, dancing in the twilight.  She breathes, closes her eyes for a moment to listen to the rushing in her ears, feel the hair whipping around her face, taste the tears that have been pulled from her eyes.  The discord of the tires hitting the rumble strips interrupt the wind’s music.  She opens her eyes.  Watches the headlights draw closer.  Wonders.

 

She got in one solid punch before she hit the ground.  He grabbed her, pulled her up.  She screamed at him, clawed at his face.  Kicked and managed to get free.  She snatched the keys from the hook by the door.  Ignored his furious shouts as she flung herself out the front door, left the pristine marble foyer behind.  She climbed into the sleek coup in the driveway, tied her scarf around her head, and sped off down the street until his voice melted away, blended with the bustling sounds of the city.

 

She stares.  Not up at the stars, winking in their celestial homes.  Not at the traffic, slowing to a crawl beside the wreckage.  But at the glass, strewn across the hood of her car, scattered on the pavement, glittering at her like thousands of diamonds in the beams of the headlights.

She listens.  Sirens in the distance, muffled.  Ringing in her ears.

She feels.  Blood trickling down her face.  Breeze playing coyly with her hair.

She blinks.

 

She watched the city growing smaller and smaller in her rearview, blazing in the light of the setting sun.  Felt the strange absence of the guilt which usually followed such excursions.  A normally fleeting idea which no longer carried with it the burden of facing what waited for her at home.  There would be no return this time. 

 

 

She blinks.  The headlights streak past, horn blaring in their wake.  She pulls off to the shoulder of the road, the car kicking up fine dust as she coasts to a stop.  She closes her eyes and breathes in.  The dirt settles.  She runs her fingers through her hair, pulls out the knots, secures it into a bun.  Straightens her shoulders.  She pulls back onto the highway, heads east, speeds into the night and leaves the wreckage behind.

 

She smiles.

Author's Note

Still doing a few edits on this.