Last Chance

Chapter 4: Breaking Silence

The drive back out of town is silent. It's not like I can talk, and Hansen doesn't know what to say to me. I can tell because he keeps drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. After a moment, I start rifling through his music collection.

I can't take the silence anymore. I've had too much of it since my parents died. It's overwhelming and oppressive. And it's been quiet most of the day. Hansen had to go shopping, so he took me with him. No one asked any questions. He told me that he doesn't shop in this part of town much.

He has a bunch of stuff. I rifle through them until I find a CD that looks interesting and put it in. Hansen glances at me and then back at the road. "You like music?"

I nod.

"Should've guessed. You've got that look about you. But you're in luck, because I love it too."

I smile and tap my foot in time to the music. No idea who the artist is, but the lyrics are beautiful. They tug at my heart and sweep me away, letting me leave my pain and lose my grip on reality. With music, that's okay. Losing myself in it is the best thing I've ever found. Second only to hitting that punching bag. I've definitely found a new favorite past time.

The pain in my raw, bleeding knuckles is gone as the music pulls me into its soothing, sweet melody.

The woman's voice flows from the stereo in a flood of beauty and longing. The cover of the CD says that it's an acoustic cover of Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. I like acoustic covers because they generally don't have a bunch of drums. It's just the lyrical lilt of the singer's voice and the instruments, like the piano and guitar. Nothing to overpower the meaning of the song. That's the way I like things.

I smile as the song comes to an end and hit repeat.

Hansen shakes his head with a laugh and keeps his focus on the road.

We stay quiet, listening to the music on the CD for a while.

The city zooms past as Hansen drives out towards the country. We've got roughly an hour trip no matter what town he goes to. He likes the country much like my parents did, and so he drives the extra time to keep away from other people. This city is closer to an hour and a half away. We agreed that it would be best if we kept my presence with him hidden. That way, if Mariah's still around, she doesn't know where I am.

But he's taking a different route than he did last night or on the way to town. And I recognize these roads.

This is where it happened. Not this exact spot, of course, but close enough. The forest on the horizon is dark and leering. My eyes close to block it out, and my hands grip the seat's armrests until I can barely feel my fingers any more. I have to escape this. My breathing becomes labored.

It's funny how I didn't panic yesterday when he took me to his house, but today, I can't quell the rising terror. Then again, yesterday I was tired, nauseous, and keeping a close eye on Hansen because I didn't quite believe that he was trying to help yet. Now I know better, and I'm more focused on my surroundings.

Hansen clears his throat. "Are you okay?"

I force a nod as I struggle to breathe deeply. If I can relax, maybe the panic attack will be avoided. I have to try. This isn't the place to freak out.

My heart is pounding, and my palms are slick with sweat. Trees start to populate the emptying landscape. They tower over me, reminding me of what happened two days before in this silent landscape. I can't. I can't keep going. No...

My fingers knead the soft fabric of the seat as I desperately try to stave off the tears. I'm biting the inside of my cheek, and I can taste blood. Leaning my head back, I force myself to unclamp my jaws. Relax... Just relax. You're okay. But I'm not okay. I'll never be okay again.