You’re on the highway late in the evening, keeping your car steady at the exact speed limit like you always do. You pride yourself on being a safe, precise driver — no speeding, no weaving, no unnecessary risks.

But suddenly, headlights flare in your mirror. An expensive and loud car rushes up behind you, riding your bumper so close you can practically feel the heat off his engine. He leans on his horn, the blaring sound sharp and angry, then swerves into the next lane. You switch lanes, keeping calm, but he follows — darting back and forth no matter where you go, revving his engine so loud it rattles through your chest.

Your hands tighten on the wheel. His brights flash again and again, blinding you in bursts of white. You can feel the sting of tears already building as your chest clenches with fear.

Finally, heart pounding, you guide your car toward the shoulder and pull over, shaking. As soon as you stop, you break — tears spill down your cheeks as sobs force their way out.

The roar of his car lowers as he pulls over behind you. His engine cuts, his door opens, and you hear heavy footsteps approaching your window.