Denial and Demons

So I started this story and just kinda wanted to throw it out there to see what kind of feedback I got.

Chapter 1

Dead yellow grass smothers the wet muddy shore that I stand on.  I looked around at the shadows between the trees: they feel like they're watching me. They know what I did as they peek and spy around the old mossy oaks. Apart from the trees I can still smell the moldy dampness of the dirt under my finger nails and the salty iron of the blood that saturates my shirt.

I hear a croak or the snapping of a twig, I turn startled. A pair of bright green eyes blinked at me from shallow water. They smirk saying "you did it," as they slowly submerge themselves back into the depths of the black water.

Flashback:

Adam Richards is what the top right hand corner of my English assignment says. I'm cramped in this little desk that definitely wasn't built for guys over six feet. I looked around the small classroom. Everyone has their heads bent down over white and blue striped paper, their eyes bouncing back and forth across the page. This one moment strikes me as so ordinary its almost painful. Where's the adventure? I was bored out of my mind and a sudden surge of anger flared inside my chest.

I stewed the rest of the day on the lookout for somehting interesting. But there was no such luck everything was so ordinary and safe. I felt like a cat following prey or a wire stretched and pulled tight.

I left Middleton High in my black truck and headed for home. I passed by our small towns general store and the one and only movie theater. It had started to get dark already so I turned on my high beams and turned down old Oak Road. Something reflective caught my eye. The closer I got the more I could tell that is was one of those reflectors on a bike. In the dark I could see a guy about my size pedaling along.

I was suddenly so very angry, furious even. I'm not sure if it was the red light of the reflector flashing into my eyes that triggered my rage of something else. Maybe it was my need for something out of the ordinary, whether it was good or bad I didn't care. I just needed to do something. The taunt wire that I had become was about to snap.

I revved my engine and saw the guy look back. I could tell he had brown hair, and I knew from his familiarity that he must go to my school. His eyes widened when he first saw me but quickly turned dismissive as he waved me on.

Dismiss me? How dare he? Who did he think he was? I was in control, and I could do what I wanted. I held his life in my hand or better yet under my foot. All I had to do was push my foot down a little bit further and turn my steering wheel a little more to the right. And that would be it.

I found myself revving the engine again. I was almost like I was sitting in the passenger seat looking at myself. A devious, twisted smile stretched inhumanly across my jaw and deformed my features. I watched as my hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. My body looked tensed as muscles and tendons twitched with anticipation.

Sitting there dumbstruck as the other me in the driver's seat continued to step on the gas startling the guy on the bike again, he finally looked frightened. I could tell that it pleased the other version of me. I couldn't stop myself. I had neither the desire to nor the reasoning to stop. There was a distance between me and the scene before me. It was almost like I was watching a show on T.V. I was just a spectator with no control over the scheduled program.

The truck suddenly lurched forward. The sound of a hollow thud of metal rand through the cab of the truck. There was a weak shout and the crunch of fiber glass and poorly constructed metal. Lastly the screech of the tires as they tried to find traction on the the dirt road.

After riding over a small bump the truck came to a full stop. I was no longer looking at myself from the passenger's seat. Back inside my head I sat staring out the fogged windshield, breathing quickly. My grip on the steering wheel lessened as my cramped hands fell to my sides.

What did I just do? Was he OK? I sat for a moment waiting for any sound. I was too scared to get out and see him lying there on the ground with accusing eyes. Somewhere in the back of my head a clock was ticking time away like some sort of sick countdown. At that exact moment I pictured two roads displayed in front of me and with every second that passed one road was pushed further away stretching it out in front of me.

I climbed out of my truck and pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulder and stepped down onto the frosted ground. I could see a bent deflated tire. Next to the tire a limp hand clutched at nothing.

Welp, there's that. Let me know what you think :)

All my love,

Emily