SARAH
Why am I here?
This is a bad idea.
A really terrible one.
I look outside the window, partially admiring the dimly lit exterior of their mansion.
So cosy.
I wonder what other cosy affairs are going on inside.
I catch myself in those train of thoughts and shake my head.
What is this? Am I so damned insecure that I had to show my face here when I was the last person they wanted to see?
I peep at the driver from the rear view mirror. Everything in me is screaming, telling him to turn around and take me home. My heart and mind are telling me that whatever is going on in there, I do not want to be part of it.
But the stubborn, ever self destructive part of me needs to know, needs to see. If they ditched me because they are with someone else, I deserve to know.
So, when
