Corruption

Chapter 1

Fiona to the side!

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I'm sitting in the car, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. It always starts like this, and it's not that I'm not aware of what's going on, it's more like I can't exactly control anything.

I'm supposed to be picking up Ronnie from a party; I'm not sure why I know this, but it's so prominent in my mind, it seems impossible for it to not be true. The windows in the Civic are fogged, I can only make out a blur of lights and I'm only faintly aware of music that must be coming from the house.

Everything seems lagged and I'm trying to shift my focus from the clouded windows to the dashboard, glancing at the time, but why can't I ever make out the numbers...11:53? 1: 58? 12:13?

I want to search for my phone but I'm scared to move my hands from the wheel. I'm not sure why, but it's as if it's stuck there and the moment I release, everything will shatter. Figuratively or not, I seem to think the only thing keeping the car together is my hand on the wheel.

"Ronnie?" I mumble, but it sounds dazed, even to my ears - like I'm under water and the sound is muffled.

"Ronnie's not here, baby." It's a voice - one that I always forget, but I remember as soon as I hear it. A bit raspy, deep, maybe even reassuring or maybe it was condescending. I can't see him, I don't know how he looks or where he is, my eyes are glued, suddenly, to the windshield and I can't tear them away

"She has to be here," I hear myself say, "She called me." I feel myself begin to panic, afraid I've lost my best friend.

"Ronnie isn't here, Fiona, keep driving." I don't want to follow his instruction, but my foot seems to step on the gas and I can't even get the wipers to work, I can't even move my damn hands.

"Please, don't," I beg. I know he has something to do with my lack of mobility, like I can't stop myself from doing whatever he says, but I know I should, I have to.

He chuckles and it sounds sinister. It's making me shiver. I'm shaking so bad, but there's a hot breath in my ear and he's telling me how much he loves it when I beg, that I should do it more often.

"I have to get Ronnie," I whisper, and my eyes start to get blurry, although, there isn't much of a difference between my previously blurred view of the road in front of me. "Why are you lying to me - I have to get her, she's at the party."

"When have I ever told you the truth, sweetheart?" He asks and I've never met him prior to this altercation, not really; I'm not sure if it really counts when it's only repetition of the same five minutes every other night, so I don't really know the answer to his question. It's rhetorical, I know, but I can't help but feel that he's actually never told me the truth. "Step on it," he growls, and gasp when the car lurches forward, faster than I've ever driven this car - faster than I thought was possible. I distinctly remember going over fifty miles one summer ago only to have it break down in the middle of the road.

"Please let me go," I beg, "Get me out of here!"

"Shut the fuck up," He says, and I think I wish he'd yell at me when he'd said that, but it still has the same affect, my mouth clamping shut, my sobs being suppressed. Something presses to my hair, stroking it back like some sort of comfort, "That's right, Fi, keep driving, keep driving right off the road, baby. Right off the cliff. Don't take your foot off the gas, okay?" His horrid driving lessons were being whispered into my ear and I'm trying to pull my hands off the wheel, I'm trying to pry them away but they only tense and cause my knuckles to turn pale and my bones to jut against the skin.

I can't even open my mouth to scream, I can't even tear my eyes away from the window, I can't fucking move but I think my heart is beating so fast, it's pumping out of my chest.