The headlights of the old rust bucket illuminated the shadowed foresty road as its wheels skidded slightly on the wet cobbles. Max slowed as the tollbooth came into view. "Pass the change mate," he groaned, weathered by lack of sleep.
"Here," said Charlie, handing a pound coin and an energy drink to his companion. Max downed the flat can of sugar and caffeine as if it were the nectar of gods , much to his sister, Tara's dismay.
"Remind me of why we are coming this way," Tara grumbled from the backseat.
"Because it's the quickest way back, alright?' Max snapped.
"We'll never get through," she cried, beginning to regret denying a second vodka. "Look at the state of it for God's sake! Why would anyone be working in there?"
Tara's words hung in the air as a pallid face glared through her eyelids from the booth. The blonde felt her paranoid delusions slowly unfolding before her overly mascaraed eyes. Max winded the window down and cleared his throat. "Can we go through?" he choked, sounding unexplainably uncomfortable- although it was probably due to the fact this woman could stare without eyes.
She was garbed in a red velvet dress with her cascades of dark hair falling to her slender waist. The women in the booth was beautiful in a classy sort of way but something about her made Tara nauseous. The dire need to avert her gaze before the neck hairs she'd never noticed she had stood on end was unbearable.
The lack of answer wasn't exactly making the situation anymore convenient but as soon as she stirred it was blood not words that appeared from her mouth. Oh Max, you really do owe me a vodka, Tara thought.
"For God sake," Charlie cried, "drive!"
Max's heroic attempt of taking that advice was demolished as soon as he hit that nail, or whatever was on the road. The car jerked as the back tire deflated. He may have made a good few millimeters if he was lucky.
Tara thoughtlessly turned back to the red and black figure in the tollbooth. More blood was streaming from her delicate lips yet her eyes remained sealed. Her taloned fingers clawed their way to the pearls around her throat. The single motion shattered both the necklace and the window. Her blood trickled down shards of what remained of the glass. Upon close inspection, the maimed flesh of her neck appeared to be melting.
While her brother and boyfriend gaped at each other in confusion and horror, Tara sparked up a potentially suicidal idea. Maybe she was just drunk but she leaned across to snatch the pound coin off the dashboard and hopped out into the mud.
There was no door, she realised. The window was her only hope.
"Hey," she whispered softly to the madwoman, putting hand sportively over her sharp cheekbone. The flesh singed under her touch but she calmed down, breathing and sobbing lightly. Her eyes opened to reveled nothing but more blood
Tara held out the coin but before she could explain it was greedily snatched. "May we pass?" she asked, meekly.
"I..." The Tollbooth Lady croaked and sniffed like a bloodhound. The blood cleared from her surprisingly human eyes. Even her flesh seemed to heal a little. "I... may go?"
"Yes, of course," Tara said in her best nursery-teacher voice before noticing she was now on the wrong side of the booth.
"I may go," The Tollbooth Lady was already on her way.
