Chapter 2: Escape Into the White
1272 Words
The city disappeared in my rearview mirror somewhere around midnight.
I should have gone home first. Packed clothes, grabbed my laptop, left a note for my roommate explaining why I was abandoning next month's rent. Should have done a lot of things.
Instead, I was driving north in a cocktail dress with my phone at fifteen percent battery and half a tank of gas.
Smart. Real smart, Ava.
The highway stretched ahead, empty except for the occasional truck. Snow fell steadily now, fat flakes that stuck to my windshield faster than my wipers could clear them. The defroster wheezed, fighting a losing battle against the cold seeping through every crack in my ancient Honda.
I cranked the heat higher. Nothing changed.
My feet were still wet from the puddle. I'd kicked off my heels somewhere around the George Washington Bridge, but my toes were numb, my dress still damp and clinging.
The gas light flickered on.
Perfect.
I took the next exit, pulling into a truck stop that looked like it hadn't been updated since 1987. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. Three semis sat in the parking lot, engines running, drivers probably sleeping in their cabs.
I filled my tank with my last credit card. The one I'd been saving for emergencies.
This qualified, right?
Inside, the cashier didn't even look up from his phone when I walked in. I grabbed coffee that smelled burnt, a bag of chips, a candy bar. Stood in line behind a trucker buying cigarettes and energy drinks.
My reflection caught in the security mirror above the register. Mascara smudged under my eyes. Hair falling out of the pins I'd spent an hour securing. Silk dress wrinkled and stained.
I looked like I'd been in a fight.
Felt like it too.
The trucker glanced at me. Did a double take. "You okay, miss?"
"Fine." The word came out sharper than I meant.
He held up his hands. "Just asking."
I paid. Didn't make eye contact. Walked back to my car with coffee burning through the cheap cup, scalding my already frozen fingers.
My phone buzzed. Two percent battery.
I should charge it. Should let someone know where I was going.
Instead, I turned it off. Shoved it in the glove compartment. Slammed the door shut.
The silence was immediate. Complete.
No buzzing. No notifications. No demands or disappointments or reminders of everything I'd lost.
Just me. The car. The road.
I pulled back onto the highway.
The snow was getting worse. Wind buffeted my car, pushing me toward the shoulder. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, leaned forward like that would help me see better through the white.
The GPS had died with my phone. I was navigating from memory now. North. Just keep going north.
A sign flashed past. 127 miles to the mountain region.
Two hours. Maybe three in this weather.
I could do this.
Marcus used to say I was impulsive. Reckless. That I made decisions based on emotion instead of logic, that I'd regret it someday.
He'd said it the night I caught him with Claire. When I'd thrown his clothes out the window of our fourth floor apartment and told him to get out. He'd stood there, half dressed, and told me I was overreacting. Being dramatic. Making a mistake I couldn't take back.
Like I was the problem.
Like I was the one who'd destroyed everything.
My hands tightened on the wheel.
The coffee was already cold. I drank it anyway, bitter and horrible, just needing something to do with my hands.
Miles passed. The highway narrowed. Trees crowded closer to the road, their branches heavy with snow, reaching across like they were trying to grab my car.
I should have been tired. Should have pulled over, found a motel, waited for daylight.
But stopping meant thinking. And thinking meant feeling. And feeling meant breaking down completely.
So I kept driving.
The radio had lost signal an hour ago. Static filled the car, white noise that matched the white outside my windows. I turned it off.
Just the engine now. The wipers. My own breathing.
A memory surfaced, unbidden. Christmas three years ago. Marcus and me in his parents' house upstate. His mom had made hot chocolate, real hot chocolate with melted chocolate and cream, and we'd sat by the fire talking about our future. The apartment we'd get. The life we'd build.
He'd held my hand. Kissed my temple. Told me he couldn't wait to make me his wife.
Six months later, I'd found him in our bed with my best friend.
The betrayal still felt fresh. Raw. Like a wound that wouldn't heal because I kept picking at it, kept wondering what I'd done wrong, what I could have done differently.
Nothing. The answer was nothing.
Some people were just going to hurt you. Use you. Take what they wanted and leave you with the pieces.
Richard. Marcus. Claire. Mrs. Vanderbilt with her public humiliation and her cruel words.
Even Julia, my own sister, texting me to grow up like I was the one with the problem.
Everyone wanted something from me. Expected something. And when I couldn't deliver, couldn't be perfect enough or good enough or whatever the hell enough looked like, they threw me away.
The cabin would be different.
It had to be.
No people. No expectations. Just silence and snow and space to figure out what came next.
If anything came next.
The thought slithered in before I could stop it. Dark. Insidious.
What if this was it? What if I'd peaked at twenty eight, and everything from here was just decline? Failed relationships and lost jobs and a lifetime of trying and failing and ending up alone?
My vision blurred.
No. Not now.
I blinked hard. Focused on the road.
Except the road was disappearing.
Snow covered everything now. I couldn't see the lines. Couldn't tell where pavement ended and shoulder began. My headlights caught nothing but white, endless white, swirling and shifting.
The wind screamed. My car shuddered.
I should stop. Should pull over and wait this out.
But there was nowhere to pull over. Just trees and darkness and snow that fell so thick I might as well have been driving blind.
My tires slipped. The car fishtailed.
I corrected. Overcorrected.
The wheel spun in my hands.
And then I was sliding, spinning, the world tilting sideways as my car left the road and plunged into a snowbank with a crunch that rattled my teeth.
The engine died.
Silence crashed down, broken only by the wind howling outside.
I sat there. Hands still gripping the wheel. Heart hammering against my ribs.
Tried the ignition.
Nothing.
Tried again.
Click. Click. Nothing.
No. No, no, no.
I slammed my palm against the steering wheel. Pain shot through my hand but I didn't care.
This couldn't be happening.
I fumbled for my phone. Dead. Right. I'd turned it off.
I pressed the power button. Waited.
The screen stayed black.
Battery dead.
I was stuck. In the middle of nowhere. In a blizzard. In a cocktail dress.
Perfect. Just perfect.
The cold crept in immediately. Without the engine, without heat, the temperature plummeted. My breath fogged in front of my face. My teeth started chattering.
I pulled my coat tighter. Except I didn't have a coat. I'd left it in my apartment.
Of course I had.
Outside, the storm raged. I couldn't see anything beyond my windows. Just white. Just wind.
No cars. No lights. Nothing.
I was completely alone.
The panic I'd been outrunning all night finally caught up.
- Writer
