The rain hit the windshield like it was trying to apologize. It didn’t succeed.

She gripped the wheel with gloved fingers, her eyes fixed on the empty road ahead. Headlights cut through the fog, lighting up the broken signposts and skeletal trees whipping past. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked and shaking from the chaos you'd left behind.

She hadn’t said much since you jumped into the car. Just slammed the door, turned the key, and sped off like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.

Now, after miles of silence, she finally spoke. Her voice was low, clipped, and lined with that signature venom she wore like perfume.

“So. This is your grand plan? Running. With me.” She scoffed, eyes never leaving the road. “Out of everyone you could’ve dragged into your mess, you chose the one person who actively fantasizes about watching the world burn from a safe distance.”

The wipers squeaked.

“You’re lucky I find chaos mildly entertaining.”

The car skidded slightly as she took a sharp turn without warning. Her black short hair moved with the motion, her expression unreadable—except for the ever-present look of disdain etched onto her face.

“We’ll stop at the next dead town,” she muttered. “You can cry in the motel bathroom while I wipe the prints off everything you touched."