Sitting, I could always hear the peaceful bell chimes, followed by the beating steps of children running past. Then their hollow taps on the glass while they smiled, saying something like, "Momma, can I get that flavor? "Their joy was soothing at the time, though I was never aware of it— I was too young to understand.
When my mom took me there, she always asked the same question."Aerin, so how is school going?" Her voice was always so sweet. Yet, I was slow to answer, always scared that I might disappoint her."Ehh, I hate math," I would say, looking down. Then she'd giggle, letting out her bright smile. "Hehe, that bad, huh? Don't worry, I wasn't much of an Einstein myself. "I could never help but smile too. "But I know you'll get through it, honey. I believe in you," she said.
Then I tapped my cup. looking down I could see the ice cream melting, streaks of vanilla and chocolate flowed off the top of the scoop leaving streaks of color
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
That reminds me of something…that sound, it reminds me... it reminds me of something I would have rather forgotten.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Mom… she would always start tapping her foot when she tried to restrain herself. especially when she was mad at my father
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"You've always been so worthless!"
But she never could hold back for long.
"Like you're one to talk—you're a worthless leech of a wife!"
I tried to stop the memories from flooding back into my mind.
"Was that before or after I caught you with that geolle?"
But the memories always win.
"Just shut up! I would've never done that if I hadn't married someone so miserable!"
They used their words to slash at each other. They screeched, hurled insults, tore each other apart. It was like the only thing they knew how to do was rip each other limb from limb—so consumed by their hatred that they forgot I was there, forced to bear witness to it all. I could do nothing but beg and plead for them to stop. They never did. They kept going until nothing was left. Not even my innocence.
"You've always been so worthless!"
"You're a worthless leech of a wife!"
Those words slammed into my face like a mace.
My foot grew heavy, and rain began to pour. The pedal was calling to me like a siren. But then— their words, their anger, started to echo. Slowly, my strength waned.
3… 2… 1…
[Lap 1]
My foot began to sink. The car started to hum. As I pinched my hand over the cold leather, the world began to fade. The fine threads of the wheel became the fiber in which I manifested my being. As I took a breath and inhaled, the lanes around me melted into nothing but white— a prism of reality.
I needed it to stop. The voices. The memories. If I couldn't drown them out, I would outrun them. No more would I be burdened by grief. No longer by suffering.
The anxiety I had harbored in the depths of that warehouse dissolved into nothingness.
As I heard the car stir and the pistons churn, my life became simpler. Suddenly, my only concern was to navigate, to accelerate, to survive.
Time blurred.
The speedometer climbed.
144. 160. 190. 200.
[Lap40]
My hand—
As my grip strangled the wheel, my knuckles turned white against the cold, fine stitches. My heart pounded. Not from fear.
It was quiet now.
The screeching voices, the frantic screaming—gone. Replaced by the rhythmic revving of the engine.
There was no more fear. As I weaved dangerously between cars, the life that had burdened me was released. They flew past me like phantoms in the night.
I was submerged in bliss.
I flew.
[Lap 71]
Faster. Faster. I need to go FASTER.
I threw my foot down, crushing the pedal.
As I accelerated, the car began to fade. I could feel the wind on my face and the air under my arms. No longer could I hear the car or anything but the violent breeze. I was pressed back into my seat, but I didn't feel constricted.
I felt free.
I had broken free.
The only thing that existed was me and the track.
I glanced down.
230. 260. 270. 300.
My eyes honed in.
Nothing was important except my urge for more. I was going to conquer it all.
Glancing up, I saw a corner and a sign with just two words.
[Turn 3]
I inhaled. Bracing. Preparing.
This was it.
Almost The last one.
I thrust my foot onto the brake, straining, grunting, pouring everything I had into it. Nothing was spared.
I lurched forward, as if the hand of God had yanked me by my collar.
It felt like I was thrown into a wall.
Slowly, the pressure of my foot waned, peeling away from the brake, and I pressed the paddles.
Click.
Click.
The back wheels began to swerve.
The car fought back like a beast, like a demon that wanted nothing but speed.
Click.
The wheel trembled, begging me to stop, as if I were draining its life.
Click.
The gates were near.
Click.
The car needed something.
Click.
I needed it too.
I threw the wheel, gliding along the inner edge of the turn, the red and white checkered curb blurring past me.
The car calmed. The wheel steadied. The track aligned.
The car knew it was time.
I knew it was time.
I thrust my foot onto the gas, as if plunging a knife into my prey.
The engine roared back to life, as if I had breathed air into its lungs.
It pulled me back, embracing me in its seat.
I grinned.
I was going to do it.
Click. Click. Click.
I could feel the speed, the raw inertia—I was high off it.
I needed more.
Click.
300.
Click.
310.
Click.
330.
Damn it. It still isn't enough!
340. 345. 350. 355.
More. More. More!
360.
5th… 4th… 3rd… 2nd… 1st.