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"Can you slow down?" I ask, clinging onto the door handle.

Tyler doesn't respond. He's driving like a maniac, speeding down the road at a thousand miles an hour. He removes his hands from the wheel, using his knees up to steer.

"Tyler!" I scold.

He ignores me. He picks his phone up out of the centre console, staring down at the screen.

"You can't do that!" I yell. "Drive properly!"

"Shut up!"

"Drive normally!"

He brings his phone up to his ear, placing his spare hand back on the wheel. But it barely gives me any comfort. I'm shaking so hard, my teeth keep clanging together. I swear, if he doesn't start driving properly, I'll end up scratching my skin until it bleeds.

"What the fuck did you do?!" Tyler spits into the phone. "Pay your fucking debts, you son of a bitch! I swear, we're fucking done with you!"

I can barely make sense of his words. My eyes are glued to the road, watching us swerve between the other vehicles. But I can only see the vague outline of headlights. I'm shaking so bad, I can't focus my eyes.

"You think I won't fire your ass? Because I fucking will!" Tyler continues. "I'm fucking shit of this shit!"

"Tyler," I whisper, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

"This is my fucking team you're fucking with! My team!"

"Tyler," I repeat, slightly louder this time.

"I'm the only one keeping you in this fucking business right now. I've given you chance after chance and you keep fucking me over!"

"Tyler!"

"What?!" he spits, turning his attention to me.

"You need to- You need...," I stumble over my words, struggling to stop my heart from jumping out of my chest.

"I need to what?! Huh?!"

"Pull over," I mumble.

"What the fucks wrong with you?!" he scowls. "You do know I saved your fucking ass back there, right?"

"Pull over."

"Jesus Christ-,"

"Pull over!"

"Fuck, relax," he widens his eyes, slowing down the vehicle at the side of the road.

Before it's even stopped, I jump out, falling down on my hands and knees. I can feel the pavement scrape over my skin, but I don't care. I try to regulate my breathing, counting every time I inhale and exhale.

"Will you calm down?" Tyler grumbles, leaning over me. "He's not even dead!"

I shake my head, but I can't respond. If I open my mouth, I'm going to vomit.

"Seriously, stop it. You're being pathetic," he says.

This isn't about the guy in our apartment. This is about his driving. He saw me have a panic attack just a few days ago, how does he not realise that that's what's happening now?

"I shouldn't be fucking surprised," he scoffs. "All you fucking do is overreact."

Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir. Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir.

You've got this. Keep it under control. My breathing is already beginning to stabilise, and my shaking has reduced significantly.

"We don't have time for this shit!" Tyler urges. "We need to leave. Now!"

"I-, I-," I try.

"You're lucky I even dragged you out of there."

"This isn't about that!" I blurt, sitting up straight. I look up at him, watching him blow out the smoke of his cigarette.

"Then what the fuck is the problem?"

"You!"

"Right," he scoffs. "What did I do this time?"

"I can't sit in a car like that! You're driving like a maniac!"

"No, I'm ducking not!"

"You're going to kill us!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he grumbles. "You're unbelievable!"

"I don't want to die!"

"You won't!"

"Yes, I will! You can't drive like that!"

"Then why don't you drive?"

"Because I can't!"

"Damn right you can't! There's no way in hell you'll get is there in time!"

"Get us where?"

"Away from that asshole!"

I purse my lips, unsure of how to respond. My anxiety has calmed down, and I can think clearly again, but there's no way in hell I want to get back into that car.

I climb onto my feet, sucking in a deep breath. The frustration between us has already reduced. Once the gas is gone, there's nothing left to stoke the fire.

"Are you done with your tantrum?" Tyler grumbles. "Because I swear to god, I'll fucking leave you here."

"No!" I object. The car might be a terrifying place, but so are streets at this time of night.

"Then get in the ducking car! We have to get out of here."

"I can't."

"What the fuck do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," I repeat. "Not if you keep driving like that."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he grumbles. "You think you're a better driver than me?"

"No, I don't."

"Damn right, you don't," he scoffs. "Get in the fucking car."

"I can't," I repeat.

"Are you ducking serious right now?"

"I can't do it."

"Then you fucking drive!"

"I can't!"

"Why? You can't drive stick?"

"That's not it."

"Then what the fuck is?"

"I can't drive."

"You've said that already!"

"I can't drive at all."

"Is your license suspended?"

"I don't have a license."

"At all?"

"At all."

He scowls down at me, clearly analysing my face. I look away. It feels way too invasive. It's like he's staring right into my soul.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"Eighteen," I respond.

"And you don't have your license?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just... don't."

"Right."

It's none of his business and he knows it. At least he doesn't seem as angry as he did a minute ago. And now, I feel comfortable enough talking to him normally.

"Where are we going?" I ask him.

"A safe place," he tells me. "Owen will be there."

"Okay," I nod.

"Will you get in the car?"

"Do you promise to drive the speed limit?"

He scoffs, but doesn't raise his voice. "I promise."

"Pinky promise?" I hold my pinky out to him, but he shakes his head.

"I'm not fucking doing that shit," he grumbles, climbing back into the car. I chuckle slightly, despite his lack of humour.

I'm just surprised we had a conversation without screaming at each other, even though it was short.

I jump back into the passenger side, but as soon as I do, I'm reminded about the man on our living room floor.  

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