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I'm in a car, and it's in drive, but I'm in the back of the car. I lurch forward over the seat and grab the wheel, and swerve back onto the road. The car is going faster and faster, I'm weaving in and out of traffic. My feet are blocked from the pedals. I can't reach the brake lever. It comes to a yield and I am unable to, so I swerve past the oncoming lane and I am about to hit people walking on the side walk: I wake up, my heart is pounding. I'm awake but the bullshit part of my brain leaves me with a parting thought. My waking thought as I clutch my sheets and sit bolt upright is "this is like that time, twelve years ago, when I hit that man with my car... I put his body in my back seat, drove him to an alleyway, and dumped the body behind a dumpster. There's still blood in the seat cushions... it's only a matter of time before they catch me. How have I lasted this long? What will people say when they find out? What a horrible way to remember the guilt I've been living with these twelve years. I remember telling my roommate.... my roommate... I didn't have a car when I had a roommate. Oh thank christ it's all bullshit" I woke up literally believing I was a murderer weighed down by a decade of guilt, and it was made all the more real because I wasn't dreaming about any of that before I woke up. Krinkle fucked around with this message at 07:09 on Nov 23, 2012 |
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Nov 23, 2012 07:04
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 07:49 |
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