I’ve been stuck in that moment for forty minutes. Time froze after you disappeared from the rear-view mirror. I’ve been holding on the same breath since then. If I let it go, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what I’ll do.
No one’s on the road. Every tucked up in their own little homes. Except me. Can’t go home because you’re there. Can’t go to Mum’s. Can’t tell her. Can’t say it.
Hands on the wheel. Keep still. Keep driving.
You did me wrong.
Don’t lie. We both know you ruined it all. Yes, I walked out of the door, shoved my whole life in the car and drove off in the rain, but you set the house on fire when you kissed her and I had to save myself.
How much longer can I hold this breath? I’ll suffocate on my words all because I can’t tell myself what you’ve done. Pulling over, my heart’s shivering in my chest. Partly the cold. Partly because it’s set to burst.
So I let it.
The first sob and then the next. I shake and I scream, safe hiding in an empty car park in the middle of the night. In every cry I curse you and damn you to hell. Then wish you would find me and take me home.
Writing prompt from circles under streetlights