Shut Up and Drive

Chapter 3

Now that the car was uncovered, tarp rustling on the ground as he took a step forward to rest his hands on the hood of the car. The sickening sweet feeling in his stomach wrenched and turned as he stared at the sleeping beast. Though it didn't look like the beast he once knew. The windshield was gone, deep dents lined the hood all the way up, the paint was scratched off in spots and there were very visible parts missing around the car. He took slow steps, the smile never fading as he ran his hand across the side of the car. His eyes held something almost of hunger as he stared at the car as a wolf would to prey.

The car all around was damaged in one way or another. Though two things lay untouched from the damage. First was the one thing he and Sam had looked for when they had attempted to restore this car. Standing at the front of the car, he reached under and found the latch for the hood. He struggled with the latch a bit due to his hands not regaining their stillness before he was able to lift the hood. Inside sat an almost perfectly intact twin-turbocharged 3.8-L V6 engine. He knew there was probably some damage to it seeing as the hood and surrounding area was dented or cut in some way, but the pristine engine still sat the way he had seen it last time. This allowed him to let out a breath, though not without noticing how shaky his breath came out and the tightness that grew in his throat.

He softly closed the hood, not allowing it to latch seeing as he didn't know if his hands would work properly to get it back open. He made his way to the driver's side door. Popping the door up -with some struggle due to it being dented in- he slid into the front seat. His heart rate sped as one of his clammy hands ran over the dash, coming to a stop at the steering wheel. There was a noticeable tremor as his eyes slid over every inch of the leather seats and the controls. He didn't know if it was luck or if someone had tried their best to restore whatever had been damaged, but the inside had no hints of damage. He didn't know why, but that made his smile drop. Then it hit him. Staring straight through the windshield brought back that memory.

-Flashback-

The sound of cheering started, filling his ears as his eyes locked dead ahead of him. The sound of people saying he had this race in the bag. Then there was Sam who stood off, his face twisted in a look of contemplation and anger as he stared at the blue car. He thought Sam would wish him good luck but as he pulled the car to the starting line, Sam walked away. George shook it off, refusing to let that get to him as he looked at his opponent. George had been telling himself that he was gonna do fine as the flag girl had made her way over to the two cars. The engines of the cars filled his ears as he watched the flag girl point to each car before lifting the flag and quickly whipping it down.

That's when he took off. He quickly pulled ahead first as both cars shot down the strip. George could see the incline as both him and the driver of the black Mazda Rx battled to get over it first. George kept rapidly glancing to his left at the black car worried as it inched ever closer. That's when George managed to pull ahead at the top of the hill, both cars barreling down.

With how dark it was, neither driver could see over the edge of the road. At this point, it was a battle to who could get to the bottom without throwing their car off what could be potentially a cliff on either side. George thought he had this, his car reached 150 faster than expected downhill, and still climbing. George had pulled ahead quickly but that's when it all went down hill-quite literally. When George pulled ahead, the driver next to him slammed its whole body into the side of George's driver's door. This jolted him a bit as he tried his best to keep the car steady, when it happened again and then again. Each jolt had been harder than the last. Though it wasn't until the fourth jolt that George slammed on his brakes hard and jerked his steering wheel to the left in an attempt to hit the rear end of the second car. He could hear his back right tire spin and with a quick turn of the steering wheel, he soon heard his front right spin and that was what sent him over. His car rolled down the hill, not just once, not twice, but probably seven times, before slamming hard into some trees at the bottom. Glass was everywhere, pieces of the car here or there and all George could feel was pain. Everywhere hurt and he couldn't move. This caused panic to spike in him. Why couldn't he move? He could curl his fingers and toes so why couldn't he move to climb out.

He heard voices and cars start to surround the area. His vision was blurring as he looked to the top of the hill as light started appearing. He couldn't tell if it was from headlights or people's own flashlights or phones. There was one light in particular hurrying down the hill faster than others. That's when he could make out the voice when it was close enough.

"George!!! Somebody get help!" It hollered as the person peaked its head into the car. Another flashlight shown into the car as another body was there. This person seemed to be calmer.

"Careful, the doors got his torso trapped" the voice who he didnt recognize said

"I knew this was a bad idea" The first voice said. George recognized Sam. So Sam had watched. That relief had gone through him before turning to terror. Sam watched him crash. Sam must've seen what happened right?

"Easy buddy, lay still, we're gonna get you out of here" a faint voice said it had to have been the second person. George couldn't tell though. All his senses had failed him and soon he fell unconscious.

-End of Flashback-

He'd allowed the traumatic fragments of his past to resurface completely, and they almost threatened to drown him. When George was thrusted out of his dreamlike state, the first thing he noticed was how terribly clammy his hands had gotten. The layer of sweat had continued up his arms, now coating his entire body in a soft sheen despite the chilling temperature in his garage. His mind was still hazy, but he registered one of his fingers reaching out to trace over the collection of scars on his arms. George was covered in them. Gruesome lines taking on various jagged forms and shades, not all of them were repercussions from the accident, but they all blended together as if they had been. He remembered the hospital bed, how it caused his skin to itch so terribly he wanted to rip it off and switch it out for a new one, a less damaged one. He's been stitched up more times than he could count on both hands, but after the incident he never felt quite whole.

George scrambled out of the car, taking deep breaths to try and stop the panic from rising as he backed away from the car. His skin felt raw without any reason and he felt hot. His breathing picked up as he grabbed his bag and bolted into the house. He raced to his room, dropping the bag in the kitchen and onto his bed. His room was his only safe place, as his body shook from silent sobs. He pulled his blankets tightly to him as he curled into a tight ball. He thought he had passed this. He thought the panic attacks would've ceased but no, they had just been suppressed like any other emotion.

George hated this half of himself. No matter how hard he tried, there was always something to drag him back into his head and he wished all of it would just stop. George felt his body grow tired and heavy, and soon enough, his eyelids slid closed and he slipped unconscious, sleep taking hold of him and locking him in its grasp.