Smut, Spice and everything nice

Try me

Arianna

It's 2 a.m., and here I am, stuck on this godforsaken road. The weight of exhaustion bears down on me, my body sore from being hunched over the steering wheel for the last sixteen hours. My eyes feel like they've been rubbed raw from staring at the dim headlights cutting through the thick darkness ahead. My muscles ache, and all I want is to collapse somewhere, anywhere, and let sleep take me. But instead, I'm trapped here, in this old car that's barely hanging on, caffeine buzzing through my system, too wired to rest but too drained to think clearly. Four cups of coffee, and all it's given me is a jittery, restless energy that has me feeling like I'm coming apart at the seams.

As I press harder on the gas, my fingers clench around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. The road ahead stretches endlessly, lined by thick, looming trees that create a tunnel of shadows. Every so often, I catch glimpses of the forest on either side, dense and oppressive, like it's closing in on me. I've driven this road more times than I can count, but every time, it feels like a trap. Anything could jump out at me—a deer, a wild animal, hell, even something worse. The dark has a way of playing tricks on you, making the world feel dangerous and unknown. I'd laugh at the absurdity of it if I weren't so damn scared right now.

Then, just as I'm trying to outrun the weight of the night, the silence in the car deepens. My music cuts out without warning, leaving me alone with the low hum of the engine and my own ragged breathing. "Ugh," I groan, reaching over to fiddle with the radio, as if that's going to solve anything. But the second I do, I feel it—the car slowing, the engine stuttering beneath my feet. My stomach drops, and a sense of dread sinks into my chest. "No, no, no. Not here. Not now," I whisper, pleading with the car like it can hear me, like my desperation might somehow coax it into keeping me going just a little longer. But it's too late. The engine lets out one last splutter before it dies completely, plunging me into the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the lifeless dashboard in disbelief, as if I can will the car to come back to life. But the longer I sit, the colder the air around me feels, seeping in through the cracked windows, bringing with it the smell of damp earth and pine. My heart hammers in my chest, the silence pressing down on me from all sides. Outside, the trees seem to shift in the darkness, their long shadows stretching toward me like claws. I should know better than to let my imagination get the best of me, but the fear is already there, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I try to swallow it down, but it sticks in my throat like a bitter pill.

The trucks that were following me, the only sign of life on this desolate stretch of road, roar past without so much as a glance. Their red taillights fade into the distance, leaving me truly and utterly alone. I slam my hands down on the steering wheel in frustration, letting out a low growl. "Oh Fuck," I mutter under my breath. This was not supposed to happen. Not here. Not now. I've traveled this road so many times, but tonight... tonight it feels different. Darker. More dangerous.

Still, I'm not one to sit around waiting for a miracle. I get out of the car, though my knees wobble as I step onto the gravel. The cold bites at my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as I pop the hood and stare at the mess of metal and wires in front of me. The engine hisses softly, steam curling into the air. "Wow, I totally know what I'm looking at," I say sarcastically to no one, shaking my head. I've never been great with cars. That's what James is for.

Ronnie. My mechanic-slash-best friend. The girl who has bailed me out of more car-related disasters than I care to admit. We've known each other since college, though she dropped out a couple of semesters in to run her family's garage. She's damn good at what she does—keeps my piece-of-crap car running, at least. I pull out my phone, my hands shaking slightly as I scroll through my contacts. Her name pops up, and I tap it, pressing the phone to my ear. Each ring seems to drag on longer than the last, and with each second that passes, I feel my nerves fray a little more. By the time she picks up, I'm practically hyperventilating.