The Revolution of Art

Prologue

I woke up in a car. I found myself flicking the tip of my joint outside a half-opened window, with my eyes narrowly fixing the road that was moving incredibly fast in front of me. I was suddenly aware of that speed in my veins, my heart pumping too much blood at once. The song "A Milli" by Lil' Wayne smashed my ear cells into pieces and increased the unbelievable adrenaline I had no idea how I could manage.

I looked with flushes of panic around me, leaning over to minimize the overwhelming volume. The moment the song stopped, I was able to hear a male voice calling for me. I noticed Jordan right next to me, hauling with his lips in a circle and his right hand aggressively tapping the car's ceiling in a rhythm.

"Keep your hands on the fucking wheel!" I yelped in panic.

"What?" His hand dropped, speed decreasing, and his eyes turned to me in confusion.

"Pull over," I breathed out, searching through the windshield where the fuck we were.

He checked to see if I'm being serious; I involuntarily covered my face with my hands. I felt the disturbing touch of the joint's filter, which I threw out immediately. "Please pull over," I repeated, this time more whiningly.

My whole evening, my last six months came in waves and flashes; in a matter of seconds I found myself unable not to feel everything. Guilt, worry, fear, anxiety, uncertainty... they all flew along my body, threatening my insides in a tragic tango I could never enjoy.

The car eventually stopped. I opened the door, unbuckled my leash and threw myself out of the vehicule, inhaling all the cool air I could take in at the moment. My heart was beating like crazy, thus my respiratory tract wasn't in the best state. I pressed my forearms on the outside of the car and leant my head onto them, in my attempts to calm down.

I felt Jordan's seatbelt unbuckle as well, and him leaving the car. As I was trying to focus on my breathing, a hand caressed my back through the thin sheet of clothing I was wearing on such a cold weather. I thanked myself for being able to steady my heart race, then turned around quickly and projected my hurtful but strong butt onto the car seat. My eyes struck guilt to his figure, but the look on his face said nothing about blaming.

It's understandable, since he's used to this kind of scenes.

"Did you have one of your blackouts again?"

My chin started shaking. I tried to fade my look away from him.

"Helen..." He showed worry. My pores vented panic and guilt. It's good that he was there.

"How long was it?" I asked, voice trembling. I locked my hands together in an attempt to steady them, they had been shaking.

"I'm not sure." He leant down on his heels to look me in the eye. "You called me about an hour ago telling me you wanted to go out on a night drive."

"And you said yes without any question," I completed.

His eyes showed now guilt. He must've needed one of these nights as well, so he hadn't thought about asking anything.

He straightened his position, stirring in the cold, then ruffled a hand through his honey hair and turned back to me. "How bad was it?"

"Oh, she's bad," I answered, as a shiver went straight through me. I was freezing, yet I didn't want to come back in the car and turn the AC on hot. I wanted to stay in the cold, because that entire chill was cooling down my thoughts – or icing them completely.

But the cold air wasn't all it took for me to forget everything, because it came back. I knew it eventually would.

She was yelling at me again, she was crying in front of me, she was irrevocably showing me every single part of the pain she was dealing with. I was seeing her in ways no one would ever want another person to be, let alone their mothers. For a while, I had cried with her. I was feeling as she had, suffering like she did. But that period passed. And when she stopped feeling understood, that's when the once strong, now rusty rivets in (what was left from) our family started to crack.