How To Win A Guy In 30 Days

How To Make a Nightmare a Reality

The Ferrari 488 Spider was the doppleganger, or perhaps, the reincarnation of the Devil.

It revved once. First warning.

With full power throttle, the tires rolled precariously as it tried to lurk forward, but the master of the Devil had an uncanny way with his grip on the wheel. Second warning.

For a fraction of a second, his leg left the brake pedal before hitting on it, again, enough for the Devil to pounce one step forward, threatening to slam through the adamant hurdle on their path to escapade. Third warning.

The split second was enough for death to flash before her eyes.

The predator seemed unaffected by the stunt, the blue, red and white that formed a line had yet to cease its spiraling madness.

"Your brother is as adamant as you are."

For some reason, she didn't shoot back with something sarcastic. Perhaps it was his tone, low, impassive, or the sudden emotion, too quick to detect, that flashed across his face. Or the way his fingers gripped the wheel, his knuckles white like miniature snowcaps were placed on them.

His right leg raised, the car accelerated forward before falling into a wild drift, exhaust gas a hurricane around them. Her hands were tight around the seatbelt, her body inclined, the sudden turn made a shudder run through her spine.

She had to blink several times before her mind registered that the police cars had vanished off the scene, the car speeded into the building that had with it a foreboding vibe. She realized that the place was empty, save for their car, it seemed that everyone had managed to get away without being caught.

She should have gone with Jason.

The sirens wailed angrily, and loudly, as though they were right behind them. The scene taking form in the sideview mirror justified her doubt, unfortunately. The predator was hot on their trail.

Without a warning, the car drifted, and drifted, and drifted. The wild bend on the basement parking of the ruined building was stressfully long. While she willed her mind and soul with prayer, the Devil and its master laughed, and hooted. Enjoyable, if it weren't for them to be the limelight of the police department currently.

Her hands were flailing all over the place, clawing at the seat, on the windshield, on the cabinet, on the gear, and on his hand which was atop of the gear.

The bend ended, opening into the dark, starless skies and the lonely, soulless roads.

The feel of a slight twitch in the veins that surfaced over his busted knuckles made her realize that her hand was still on his ones, warm and tight. She took her hand from his, trying her best to make it appear less awkward.

"That was hella crazy." She laughed, hitting him on the shoulder, hard.

"I don't know if I'm stupid to escape the merciless cops or spend the next few hours with a merciless girl," he muttered, jokingly.

She smirked, and was about to answer when the car jolted forward as one of the police cars smashed on the back bumper.

Eric muttered a string of profanities. He clenched his jaw, the mad, apoplectic look taking control over him again, his face turned a bright red as if someone had randomly smeared ketchup over it. Blue and red veins sstarted to surface over the taut muscles of his biceps, of his neck, and of his face.

She was more than surprised to come across this phase, she was actually petrified. And to think that she had threatened him on the very first day that they had met? She was already dead meat. Ready to served in a golden platter for the Devil master's dinner, sitting squat like roasted turkey, a tomato on her open mouth.