Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 7

Emily

The night air was sharp, biting at her skin as she stepped out of the party, her heels clicking against the cold pavement. The stars above flickered in a sky smeared with dark clouds, a sliver of moonlight cutting through the thick, heavy clouds. The noise of the party still echoed faintly in the distance as she stumbled in the high heels, her dress a dark velvet that clung to her body, the hem brushing against her legs with each unsteady step.

"Come on," he snapped, his voice rough, like gravel scraping against metal. He didn’t look at her, only reached for her arm, gripping it tightly, as if he could pull her faster than her feet could manage.

She tried to pull back, eyes flicking toward the parking lot, her heart still racing from the argument that had only escalated once they'd stepped outside. "We should go back," she murmured, barely a whisper, the panic setting in again as her throat tightened.

"No," his voice cut through her like a knife, sharp and dismissive. He didn’t even look back, just marched toward the car, his steps heavy. "We're leaving."

The car door slammed, the sound echoing against the cold air as she slid into the passenger seat, her knees trembling. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window, pale skin and wide eyes staring back at her. The dress she wore—the deep, midnight blue velvet—clung to her body, accentuating her curves in a way that felt wrong now. She wanted to scream, to protest, to beg him to slow down, but the words caught in her throat, swallowed by the fear that already gripped her chest.

He slammed the gearshift into drive, the tires screeching against the asphalt as the car lurched forward. The headlights illuminated the dark road ahead, a blur of trees and shadows. The further they got, the more the world seemed to shrink around them, the deepening darkness wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud.

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Her fingers gripped the edge of her seat, nails digging into the fabric as the car roared down the empty road.

"You don’t get it, do you?" His voice broke the silence, venom seeping through each word. "You always act like you’re better than me. You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?"

She swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward the rearview mirror, but she couldn’t see anyone. The memories of the party still hung in the air, the faces and the conversations—they felt like they were miles away now, like everything she had known had dissolved into the rushing wind outside.

“We should check on him,” she whispered, barely audible, barely daring to breathe the words.

“Shut up,” he barked, his hands tightening on the wheel as the car swerved slightly, the tires screeching against the pavement. The speedometer jumped—80, 90, 100 miles an hour—and he didn't slow down. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to steady herself, but the panic kept clawing at her throat. He was angry. Too angry.

“Please,” she tried again, her voice barely a whisper, desperate. "I need to—"

“No,” he growled. “We’re not going back. You don’t get to do that to me.”

Her mind screamed at her to do something, anything, but her body was frozen, trapped in the car with him. The road stretched on, dark and endless, the only sound the rush of wind against the car's exterior and the pounding of her heart in her chest. The trees blurred past them, dark, towering shadows on either side of the road. The headlights cast strange, elongated shapes on the pavement, making the world outside seem like a nightmare of shifting darkness.

Her fingers gripped the seat tighter, her nails digging into the leather as her stomach twisted. She couldn't breathe. She needed him to slow down, to stop. He wasn't listening.