Road Rage

(Rain and the Highway)

As he drove down the highway in the rain his thoughts poured out onto the dashboard and smeared like dew over the control counsel. Nothing in this moment ever made him feel more afraid, penultimately devastated, and finally alive by the time his episode would end. Things like this always came when heartbreak and heart ease came through his rear window. The a.c. chilled his bones and made his senses aware of every second passing by just as the blurred lights of cars and street lamps blasted by.

Sirens could be heard across town down through the on-ramps and alleyways, most likely alerted by citizens wishing to catch him speeding through his fears as well as the highway. Nothing in this moment compared to the pain he had previously felt beforehand by the only one he loved. An episode was due yet again and this time he had no clue whether or not recovery or rectification was even possible.

The windows began to roll up on all sides upon realization of rain coming in through them as he sped down the highway, the slick metal of the car and lion-like roar of the engine became an extension of not only his body but of his emotions as well. In a fit of rage, the road became his ground to break, his oppressor and yet his friend-the wheels grinding into the crushed and mixed rock pavement- screeching down through the cold and water ridden blite. Hands shaking until his knuckles-stained with red and bruised with furry-turned efflorescent white, lit with anger, love and confusion. The steering wheel covered in sweat, his forehead was the same, his eyes pouring tears while his chest heaved and collapsed in a fit of breathing.

The passenger in the seat next to the disconsolate driver slid her hand over his, over his bloodstained knuckles, the steering wheel still making small to large twitches and adjustments in order to stay on the road through the wind and rain. His breaking heart sent shivers to his spine and down to feet, pushing the gas pedal down harder, moving back up to his neck, the pulsing shiver launched into his skull and burrowed its way to his brain, shattering its stimulating nerves and infecting its core. He threw his head back, the engine howled, revving more and echoing his agonized screams.

The passenger moved her hand to his face and wiped away a tear, whispering a small song, speaking slow and arching her back to achieve higher notes. A narrow bridge came closer and closer to where the car was, posted signs and warning pasted over each other telling anyone with a sane mind and sane heart to stay clear. But as if a chain pulling the car to the bridge, so the car responded and sped towards the danger. The ghost, lit with white light and a burning hand, her eyes, piercing his skin and searching for his heart, filling his lungs and devouring the blood in his veins drove his shaking hands to jerk the wheel and swerve the car off into the side of a narrow bridge.

The car flipped and was sent flying into the air waiting to crash into the seemingly bottomless ravine. The man released the steering wheel and tossed his head back. The engine was torn from the hood and his heart was ripped from his chest. The light went out and his eyes close. The gas pedal released and choked and his lungs collapsed into a fit of panic. Finally, he turned to the illuminated figure who was holding tightly to him staring into his eyes, his soul, his memories and his pain. He leaned towards her, holding the memory of her face, kissed her lips and breathed his last as the car crashed into the ravine.