Speed

1:1

Ophelia Greer

Gasoline. It flooded my nose but by now it was all I ever smelt. Shuffling my boots through the dirt, I slapped my wad of cash into the mans grubby hands, internally cringing. I was the only girl here, besides the other mindless whores trying to make a living outside of the nobody status.

Plasia was a pain in the ass. After I was separated from my parents, I stumbled upon the Death Race, a series of races where one could easily win a satisfactory way of living at the cost of near death at every race. I quickly became involved, winning almost every race under the alias "OG". I was world renowned, but also headed for certain death. 

You see, the leading families, more or less the gangsters, didn't like when a nobody started to gain traction towards the riches. That meant less for them, and that would certainly be a sin. They would go after anyone who defied their laws, which is why I went under an alias if ever they decided to come after me. 

At 17, I barely knew anything outside of racing, cars, and men's body language. I always hid my hair, masked my gender, in order to avoid the scum. They would want me, would want to sell me, and that was the very last thing I needed. After I lost everybody, I realized that there was no point in working a 24 hour job when I wouldn't be going anywhere. 

Anyways, enough of my sob story. 

I strutted over to my black 1969 Chevy Camaro, always adoring its prestige condition. It was my baby, and I couldn't tell you how often someone would offer me my needed riches to take my baby away. Climbing in, I revved the engine before pulling on my mask and baseball cap. I looked to my left to see my opponent bare his sharpened teeth at me. His teeth were shark-like but didn't cause me to feel any sort of intimidation. 

A women walked out and stripped herself of her shirt, baring her breasts to everyone as she raised her checkered bra high in the air. I tapped my Wrist-Illu to open my map system. I placed my steady hands on my wheel and watched as she swung her bra down onto the ground, allowing me to take off. 

With the pedal to the floor, I sped off, taking deep breaths in through my nose and out of my mouth. Headlights flashed through my rearview mirror, letting me know that I was well in the lead. My car ran with ease and flooded the road with power. The car behind my was gaining, but I sped my car up even faster. As we reached a turn, I saw the shortcut and took it, racing underneath the track. The wind blew on my face and I couldn't help but laugh. 

These races were never fair. If you knew how the track was set up, one would never take the set track the entire race. I knew that I was hear an earful from my opponent but it wouldn't matter. There was no rule against cheating. You only had to win. 

I found myself nearing the end, seeing the eager supporters cheering with drug-bogged enthusiasm. I crossed the finish line and slid out through the window, allowing the man with the nasty hands to slap two wads of cash into my hand. Smirking to myself, I pocketed the earnings and wiped my forehead of the sweat collecting there. 

My opponent finally showed up and exited his Porsche in a rush of anger. He walked up to me and threw a lethal punch to my face. 

"You fucking cheater. That wasn't even fair!" he exclaimed.

Spitting out blood, I responded, " No where does it say that I couldn't take a service road. I only had to finish first, which is exactly what I did,".

He lifted his fist again, about to reign another blow. I noticed the crowd around us, watching with a need for violence. Using that as fuel, I kicked his ankles together and let my knees fall onto his shoulders. Sending hit after hit, I thought I had won but that was a detrimental mistake. He flipped us around and lifted his fist while using his other to push my face to the side, setting him up for the perfect hit to knock me out cold. 

"Demarcus! That's enough," I heard a voice say. 

The man, Demarcus, froze and widened his eyes with a strange fear. He threw himself up and went rigid. I propped myself up on my elbows to see what was the big issue. But that's the thing, there WAS a big issue. 

"Ah, so I finally get to meet the infamous OG in person. I am certainly delighted to watch you beat my brother to a pulp," he said. 

I was lying face to face with THE Derrick Croog. I had HIT Demarcus Croog. Fucking hell, I was a dead man. 

" He should know the rules of Death Race. Besides, from the scene of his pussy behavior I would think he needs a bit more training from his daddy. If I'm being honest, he was anything but professional here," I spit. 

Derrick let out a deep chuckle but I could tell he was anything but in a humorous state. 

"The rumors are true. Well I'll be damned. You, my friend, are ballsy. And I guess there is truth to your retarded words. I will argue no more, but you should be warned. Whether my brother started this debacle or not, a nobody should NEVER entertain to violence with a gangster. He may have hit you over petty emotion, but a Croog NEVER lets a nobody get away with the upper hand. Watch your back OG, because your death has just been served on a silver platter," Derrick says before simply turning and walking into the shadows with his brother trailing behind him. 

I couldn't breathe. I am a stupid bitch. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. Gathering my wits, I pulled myself up and spit some more blood out before I hopped in my car. Speeding down the road, I realized that I couldn't go home. I started to head towards the woods. High beams flashed in my mirror and to my horror, I found a black Range Rover on my tail. 

Speeding up, I swerved between cars trying to lose them. But to my astonishment, they quickly caught up and smashed into my side, allowing me to lose control of the wheel. Taking the nearest exit, I sped through the mass of trees with the RR still up my ass. I had to think quick. I clearly wasn't going to lose them and most likely, I was going to die tonight. The moon bathed me in light and energy but it would be of no use. 

I find a side road and go to turn but I'm hit head on at full speed from the side. 

What they don't tell you about death is that you only slow down if you really have to. Clearly I did as short snippets of my parents flooded my sight. The car rolled in the air in slow, controlled circles while I remained perfectly still. I saw all of my happy memories as tears slipped down my cheeks. This wasn't how I was supposed to go. This wasn't my plan. I'd never be able to own a house, find happiness, be content. 

The world resumed in full speed as the car whirled round and round and round until it threw itself on the pavement, crushing my head along with the roof. It slid down the road on its top, smoke billowing out from under the hoodie. I couldn't feel anything except for the free flow of blood  running from my arm and head. I moved my head slightly to the left to see the Range Rover retreating down the road, leaving me in the quiet of the swaying trees. 

And then all there was was black. 

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Author's Note:

Wrist-Illu: A chip implanted into the underside of the wrist that projects holographic maps, phonebook, or calling service. 

Words: 1371