Solitaire

2:36pm

Solitaire

2:36pm

And then the car is spinning through the air.

Damien's seatbelt isn't on, I soon realize because soon his head hits the roof of the car. I grip my seatbelt, as if it's the liferaft I've been assigned to on the Titanic.

"I TOLD YOU!" I scream at him.

He swears and then throws something at me. It's the gun.

WHAT?

CRASH!!

The car hits the ground. It's on its side. So my window is smashed to the ground, Damien's is facing the sky.

That means...

"OW!" I yell as Damien falls on top of me.

"USE THE GUN!" He yells.

"What?" I ask.

"SHOOT THE G***** DOOR OPEN, SURVIVOR!" He roars. "WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY!"

Oh, right.

He's squishing my left arm, so I use my right arm and pick up the gun. I slowly point it towards my window, which is half cracked open.

"Ow!" I squeak. My shoulder... My left one... It hurts. 

"What?" Damien hisses, his breath hot on my neck.

"Nothing," I mumble as I point the gun at the window. I pull the trigger.

BOOM.

The window shatters in my face. I start to crawl forward but my seatbelt hugs me tight. "My seatbelt," I tell Damien. "It's still on."

He laughs. "Why do you wear those things, anyway?"

Ugh. Him and his sense of humor.

"Well, do you plan on staying here all day?" I snap.

"Gimme the gun," he grunts, shifting around. Yeah, sure.

I flicked my arm towards him and the gun went soaring and... Thwick.

"You OK?" I ask.

"Yeah, you just threw the gun at my face," Damien mutters.

I stare at the road. I can hear cars passing us. Don't they notice we're in distress? That we need help? Is someone going to come and...

"Hey, are you guys OK in there?" a male voice calls from outside the car.

"Damien, someones trying to help us!" I cry excitedly.

"Crap," he says as I hear him fumbling with my seatbelt.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, obviously if we've been on the news all morning, we're in trouble," he says. "Don't want them to find us at this scene." 

Riiigghhhttt..

"So what are we supposed to do?" I hiss at him. "Just lay here and sneak out while they stare at the car?"

"No," he says and I hear him cock the gun.

"You're not going to shoot anyone, are you?" I ask suspiciously. 

He doesn't say anything. Ugh, Damien, perfect time to be so aloof and mysterious, right?

I lay where I am, trying to shift myself free from the seatbelt but remember, Damien is on top of me so with his pounds it's like trying to swim through cement. That's solidifying.

"Don't worry, we'll get you outta there!" some lady calls from outside. "Call am ambulance!" I hear her whisper not so loudly.

"Um, Damien?" I ask.

"Aha!" he cries.

Please don't shoot the gun, please don't shoot the gun, we can't be in any more trouble than we're already in...

"Survivor, you are now free," Damien declares. He tosses the torn seatbelt at my face and I know that he's telling the truth. 

Okay, that's nice. I start to pull myself forward when Damien grabs my wrist. "What now?" I ask him.

"But I didn't say you could get out of here yet," he says.