Hawk and Dove by Amanda Lawless

Author:Amanda Lawless [Lawless, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-06-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I slam down the gas pedal, half expecting my foot to crash through the undercarriage of the car.

The heavy rain splashes against my windshield, outpacing my ancient wipers. I’m hurtling along the muddy road, bumping with every stray rock and grassy patch along the way.

The last thing I’d ever call myself before this week is reckless, but while my head may be begging me to slow down, my body and heart have other ideas. All I know is that right now I need to put as much distance between myself and this festival as possible, as quickly as I can.

I just need to get away.

A thick, irrepressible knot is throbbing in my throat. I can feel the hot tears welling up behind my eyes, threatening to blind me, but I don’t have time for them right now.

My thoughts are ricocheting around my skull like fireworks, and the racket they create is just as overwhelming. All I can do is keep my hands on the wheel, force my eyes to stay on the meager sham of a road before me, and keep driving, no matter what.

At this moment, it feels like my life depends on it. Keep moving, I coach myself, keep moving, don’t stop.

The front wheels of my sedan bounce up, dragging me along onto the highway. A long, seemingly endless expanse of asphalt stretches out before me. The road looks like a black river in the rainy gloom, and I intend to ride it as far along as I can. I press my foot down hard and gasp as my car rears forward, behaving more like a bucking bronco than any sophisticated machine.

I take off down the highway, swathes of muted green flying by on either side. Forcing deep breath after deep breath down into my lungs, I do my best to staunch the flood of emotion that needs so badly to be let loose. Between that storm surge and the torrential rain outside, I might just drown if I’m not careful.

Desperate, I fumble through my CD collection for something that will clear my head, and root me back to the ground. I snatch up the first promising disk and slide it into the dusty player, waiting for the sweet release of music to cure what ails me.

The CD whirs to life, and the voice of Joni Mitchell washes through the cockpit of my car. My breath catches in my throat as she glides through the first verse of “River”, taking me along with her through this mire of heartache. Silently, the tears begin to slide down my face. I let my favorite songstress carry across the threshold of feeling, guiding me into the depths of my confusion and pain.

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