Blow Out

http://www.hellocheney.com

Julie was mad as hell. What was he thinking? Texting her at two-thirty in the morning saying he was too drunk to drive home? “Too drunk my ass” she fumed when she snapped her cell phone shut. She yanked the covers off her naked body. Yes. Naked. She was hoping to surprise him when he crawled in bed.

The night was ruined.

“Bonding with the boys Sweety” he whispered in her ear with a hand inside her shirt. “Mmm, keep these hard for me will you? I won’t be late, I promise” was the last thing he told her when he left. She scrambled and hopped around the room in the dark as she pulled her jeans on. Luckily the pair she grabbed was loose fitting. Otherwise she surely would have fell face down.

She was too furious to put a bra on, she knew if she even attempted she would snap herself. She slipped into her flip flops, and threw a discarded t-shirt on her. At the last minute she thought of pulling her hoodie from the hook. It must be chilly out this late.

This late, she didn’t bother with her purse, just her cell phone and her keys. Low batt. Great. Just what I need… She thought to herself as she locked the door behind her.

Her feet crunched on the gravel. She shivered, and pulled her hoodie over her head. She started her engine, it puttered, but fired up. She took a quick glance at herself in the vanity mirror. She remembered the salesman, and his cockiness telling her about the vanity mirror with a light. “We designed these cars for women, we know how you love to put makeup on as you drive to work late.” Her hair was a mess, how she would love to kick that salesmen in the shins with her messy hair right now.

She put the car in reverse, the gravel went flying everywhere. She spun out of her driveway, and headed down the road. As she made her way she debated on the fastest route to the Fire Pit. Stupid name for a bar. She opted for the freeway. This late, there would be no traffic, nor any lights to slow her down.

She ignored the speed limit and zoomed off. Rolling her window down, she knew the cold air would get the last remaining fizziness away from her sleep induced head. Her hair blew madly in the wind, she turned the radio on full blast. That bitch Britney better not be there, she needs to get her own man and stop trying to steal mine.

“Come – Dowsed in mud – Soaked in bleach  – As I want you to be” *

Perfect song for the moment. Come as you are. She had planned on an entire different kind of coming, now it was real. Come as you are, her hair a mess, no bra, no panties, just jeans, a tee, a hoodie and her flip-flops. She chased images of Britney and her perfect manicure away from her mind as she sang out loud to this sweet old tune.

Her exit was coming up, 1.5 miles to go. With a shoulder check to her right, laughing at herself for thinking a vehicle may be there, she heard a loud bang. A truck was just pulling up next to her on the left.

It was an old 18-wheeler, commissioned by US POST. The oldest rigs on the road, they’re always easy to distinguish by their bland white trailer, usually soiled, and dented. The trucker hoped to get 5,000 more miles in before doing a tire rotation. The rear right tire was wore the fuck out, all the way to the threads. It blew out, the rubber blasted in all directions. The main part, shot straight out and slammed into Julie’s open window. She heard the bang, never saw the rubber. Her head was turned to her right, looking for clearance on her exit ramp.

She was hit so hard on the backside, her head jerked forward. Her neck broke instantly making her lose control of the vehicle. Her car skidded into the remaining right rear tires of the truck. She never felt a thing, never heard her cell phone alerting her that her battery was dead.

……………………………
* Lyrics to Come As You Are by Nirvana, written by Kurt Cobain.

This post is my submission into my friend Cheney’s FRIDAY FRIGHT WRITE. This is her first ever week hosting the writing prompt: There are countless things in life to be afraid of – alien invasions, werewolves, your possessed grandmother, that monster under the bed…

But sometimes the scariest things in life are the the things that are completely real. Scary like your child running out into the street, scary like a house fire, scary like cancer. Whether your worst fears are ordinary or extremely unlikely, we must admit that there is some fear that plagues us all, every day, that is completely rooted in reality.