Page 2 of Her Sloth

And then, just a second before we hit the quarter-mile, I press the little red NOS button, and my Hellcat shoots forward as the nitro kicks in.

I shoot over the next lights just a couple of inches in front of her.

We come to a halt at the next light.

“Told ya,” I say with a snigger.

“Fuck you,” she says and laughs.

“No one beats me on the quarter mile.”

She eyes me for a moment.

“Life at a quarter mile per hour,” she says.

“Exactly,” I say.

Sirens behind us.

“Get lost!” I shout at her.

We ignore the red lights; she turns left onto Broadway, while I stay on Columbus Avenue and speed my Hellcat up.

I see the Porsche’s taillights for just one moment before I focus on the road again. I have never loved anyone, but Elise is the one I’d ride or die for, from the very first moment, until forever.

I stare down at the graveyard, where all those people stand in their black dress-up to mourn someone they never really knew. A feeling that is close to burning down the world and crushing everyone in my way chews at my insides as the unforgiving Hawaiian sun burns down on me.

The people who didn’t even know her, who leached off her name and backed her into a corner. A father who took everything from her to push her into a life that was never hers.

Those people—none of them meant anything to her. We were her family. The escape. Until her father took everything.

Murderous rage consumes me by now.

I turn away, glancing at the sky. She isn’t here anymore anyway; it’s just the empty shell of a body. The last piece of her.

I send a prayer to her in the sky.

I will forever love you, my angel.

Back in Manhattan, I sit in my Hellcat and drive off.

I drive, but the feeling doesn’t go away.

It chews on my insides, ripping my last moral from me.

Like steered by an external force, I turn onto Columbus Avenue.

The light at the corner of Broadway turns red.

The memory of her drivin’ away flashes through my mind.

That last look. That last laugh. The backlight of the Porsche. The Porsche she crashed into the building because she was too young. The crash that made her father control her and pull her away from us. Away from her safe space into his claws.

Someone honks—my eyes flash to the light; it’s green. I drive away.

Leaving behind the memory of the only person who was a sister from another mister. My only real family. Chosen family, and the only one I ever trusted. The one person. The one love.

Tears want to fight their way onto my cheeks, but I don’t let them. I don’t cry.