The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. Grandpa's car keys felt heavy in my hand, the weight of what I was about to do sinking in. The old sedan sat there, bathed in moonlight, silent and waiting. I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest.
"This is reckless," I muttered under my breath. But staying felt unbearable.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I was immediately surrounded by the familiar smell of leather and Melon Fresco gum. I'd sat in this car so many times before, pretending to steer while Grandpa chuckled beside me. But now, this wasn't pretend.
My hands trembled as I slid the key into the ignition, twisting it until the engine roared to life.
I adjusted the mirrors, mimicking what I'd seen Grandpa do a thousand times, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. The house was still quiet. Nobody was coming to stop me. The car crept down the driveway, and I took one last look at the darkened windows before turning onto the street.
The first few moments were shaky—my movements jerky, the gas pedal more sensitive than I'd expected. But as the car rolled down the empty road, I felt a small thrill of freedom. The headlights illuminated the way ahead, and for a fleeting second, I thought maybe I could do this.
"I can handle this," I whispered to myself, though my voice wavered.
The streets were mostly deserted, save for a few late-night stragglers and the occasional passing car. I didn't have a destination in mind—only the desperate need to escape. My hands tightened around the wheel as my mind raced. Every turn felt like a gamble, my heart jumped at every stoplight.
When I reached a red light at a busy intersection, my stomach dropped. A police car idled in the next lane, the officer inside casually sipping coffee and glancing at his dashboard.
I froze, forcing myself to stare straight ahead. My breathing became shallow, my palms slick with sweat. What if he noticed something? What if he asked me to pull over? I wasn't supposed to be driving. I didn't even have a license.
The light turned green, and I hesitated for just a moment too long. A honk from the car behind jolted me, and I quickly pressed the gas, the sedan jerking forward awkwardly.
My chest tightened, and I refused to glance over at the police car. To my relief, the officer turned at the next intersection, leaving me behind. I let out a shaky breath, my whole body trembling.
"That was too close," I whispered.
I didn't slow down after that, the anxiety clinging to me like a second skin. The city lights blurred past, and before I knew it, I was on quieter roads leading to the outskirts of the city.
The houses became sparser, and soon there were none at all—just darkness and the occasional streetlamp. The emptiness made me feel both free and exposed, like the world was stretching out endlessly before me but offering no place to hide.
A sharp curve appeared ahead, and I realized too late that I was going too fast. I yanked the wheel, and the tires squealed in protest, the car skidding dangerously close to the edge of the road. My heart leaped into my throat as I fought to regain control, my knuckles white as I gripped the steering wheel.
"Come on, come on!" I pleaded, panic rising in my chest.
The car finally straightened out, and I pulled over to the side of the road, my whole body shaking. For a long moment, I just sat there, my forehead pressed against the wheel. My breathing was shallow, and tears stung my eyes.
"You're so stupid," I muttered to myself. "What were you thinking?"
But even as doubt crept in, the thought of going back felt like surrender. I wasn't ready to face everything I'd left behind. Not yet.
I drove on, slower this time, every turn deliberate and cautious. When I spotted a small gas station up ahead, I pulled into the parking lot. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn't eaten anything since lunch. Stepping inside, the fluorescent lights felt harsh against my tired eyes. The clerk barely glanced at me as I grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of chips.
"Late night drive?" he asked lazily as I placed the items on the counter.
"Something like that," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. I paid quickly and hurried back to the car, the encounter leaving me feeling uneasy. I sat in the driver's seat, nibbling on the chips and staring out at the empty lot.
I thought about the anger I'd left behind, the resentment, the exhaustion of feeling like I was constantly fighting just to be seen.
The tears came before I could stop them, hot and unstoppable. I buried my face in my hands, the weight of everything pressing down on me all at once.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted to the silence. "I don't know how to fix this."
The darkness outside seemed to agree, offering no answers, no solutions—just an endless void to match the one inside me.
By the time the first hints of dawn appeared on the horizon, exhaustion had taken over. The sky shifted from black to deep blue, streaks of pink and orange painting the clouds.
I pulled over at a small park, the grass glistening with dew in the morning light. Stepping out of the car, I wrapped my arms around myself and wandered to a bench. The air was crisp, each breath grounding me just a little.
As I sat there, watching the world wake up, the events of the night replayed in my mind. The risks, the fear, the anger—all of it had brought me here, to this quiet moment of reflection. I couldn't go back and change my family or the past. I couldn't undo the things that had hurt me. Still, I could start to take control of my life.
I climbed back into the car, taking one last deep breath before starting the engine. The road stretched out before me, and I felt like I could see a way forward.