Young Writers Society

Why was I so stubborn? I schooled my eyes back into the pavement, so that I could pretend the sky wasn’t there. Like that helped.

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel and hummed to myself. The radio would have done a better job at distracting me, but there was only static. Of course.

I was so close now. In the speed that I normally travelled, I could reach my house in ten minutes—fifteen tops. But now I was crawling, and everything was rushing besides me. I had thought I’d be able to make it home before the storm broke. I had been delusional.

And, God, this was not a normal storm either.

Had I been completely sober when I decided to hit the road? I had drank enough for the intoxication to linger in my system. But, ugh. I shuddered. Staying in the house of the party for one more second, was out of the question. (At least at the time. Now I have gained some perspective.)

I had been so drunk I passed out. Or at least, I hoped I had merely passed out. My stomach knotted.

I had woken up today, and I found myself tangled with a woman. And, well, no. I had a boyfriend—a boyfriend—and I didn’t like girls. Or at least I had firmly thought so until this morning.

When I climbed out of bed, she didn’t steer. She just took a deep breath and switched to her other side. Why did that disappoint me?

Still, I was not disappointed enough to shake her awake and ask her what exactly had happened yesterday. I turned away and did my scape.

The sky had already been grey when I started driving, but now it was an angry purple. Everyone smart was already sheltered.

Not too long, and I will be too. Just a few miles and I would veer off the highway. After that, it wouldn’t be more than five minutes. Five minutes. How could that sound like an eternity? I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

My eyes peeked down to my phone. It was quietly resting on the passenger seat. I worried my bottom lip in my teeth. Had Jarred tried to call me? I mean, he better have. We had argued yesterday, but if he hadn’t tried to make contact—as futile as it would be in this weather—he’d be in serious trouble.

Out of nowhere, an object smashed against my window. A choked scream escaped my throat, and I jerked the steering wheel to the left. When I realized how stupid my kneejerk reaction had been, I tried to straighten my car in the lane. It skidded to the other side and my foot smashed against the break.

My head was propelled forward and the car spun. I had been going slowly, so apart from the nasty burse in my forehead, nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened, but anything could.

I looked at the palm trees. They swung and bent when the wind tried to run through them. It seemed like they were about to snap. Like twigs. I couldn’t keep driving like this. I would be blown away!

My breathing turned ragged. Shallow humphs that did nothing to oxygenate me. My chest clenched. No! I refused to slip into a panic attack right now. My car was across two lanes of the highway, for crying it out loud! That would make the storm—hurricane?—the second of my most pressing worries.

I started to feel like I was trapped in my own mind, and my skin became tighter. The situation was hopeless. I would die. Die!

Oh, no, no, no way. Not now. I took a deep breath and held it till my lungs started to protest. I released it though my mouth, and repeated the process to restart my breathing. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. I chanted in my minds. Rainbows, lollipops, and beautiful shit. I gave myself another minute to collect myself before driving again.

I was not well, but I was better.

I clenched the wheel so that my fingers wouldn’t tremble and made a U-turn. Granted, it was not a good plan, but it was better than trying to reach my house. Within two minutes I was in the gas station and proceeded to jump out of the car.

The rain drenched my dress and droplets of water accumulated in my lashes. I had to blink a few times to be able to see, but when my vision cleared, I halted on my tracks. I had planned on bagging at the door of the adjoining convenience store. Maybe someone was there. Maybe they had a basement. A basement. The word made me sigh with longing. The wind blew against my cheek and made it burn.

And the windows rattled.

The windows that took two entire walls from the establishment. Instead of taking one more step toward it, I made a beeline to the bathrooms.

I thanked God I already knew where they were as I rushed towards the black metal door—my heels splashing against the endless puddles of water. I fumbled with the latch—my trembling fingers hindering the process—but I made it inside.

I slammed the door shut behind me.

I am a mess! I was surprised when I caught my reflection in the dirty mirror. My eyes were red and had nasty shadows under them. My hair was soaked and it matted down onto my scalp and neck. My short dress clung to my skin and water ran down my thighs. How was I this wet? I didn’t spend more than two minutes outside.

I took a deep breath, massaged my forehead, and let my mind raced. I needed to get a better shelter. I thought back to the store—who would be there, anyway? Then the road. I tried to visualize the neighboring buildings. I grunted in frustration. Thiswould have to do.

A shattering sound made my head snap up. The high window broke into dozens of pieces that feel forward. I scurried backwards and hit my head against a corner. “Ow!” I touched the back of my head and gingerly inspected where I had hit myself. It was sore, but this wouldn’t kill me.

The glass had landed around the toilet—far enough that I was left unharmed. It was a small window, so that helped too. Maybe it was better to have it off the way now, right?

I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. I slid until my ass hit the ground and tried to convince myself the floor wasn’t sticky. As the long as the walls held steady, nothing bad would happen. I hugged my legs to my chest.

It was only a storm after all, not a tornado, or something. Just rain. And lightings. Hot strikes of electricity. I was in a gas station.

Fear fisted my throat. I felt like I was choking. What were the chances of one hitting this place, anyway? I hid my head in my knees.

Outside, the wind seemed to violently knock against the door.