Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve.

Begging. Demanding.

Let me leave.

I told you I have to go.

I’m late.

A roar, gravel flying.

A rush sets in. Panic. Chills, a bead of sweat.

Can’t be late again.

Flying.

Trees swim past, blurry.

Infinite sky, chattering teeth, broken heater.

Faster.

Music happy, youthful, carefree.

A bolt of bright lightning, racing.

Can’t be late.

This happens too often.

Scolding.

Bright gravel rushing close.

Swirling trees, stars, and sky.

Music skips a beat.

Terror.

The sky crunches.

A standstill.

Speechless.

Diagonally, open the door.

Hot. Smoke.

Fear made waterfalls.

Fumble for contact.

Call.

Sob, incoherent.

I’m okay.

I love you too.

Come quick please.

Knees kiss the gravel,

Face to the stars.

Boiling tears.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to disappoint you.

It’s not my fault.

I tried so hard to obey.

Unfortunate how he made this happen.