Flash Fiction - Braking
You ease off the accelerator and glance in the rearview mirror. What little moonlight there is
glistens off the blood still oozing from your sore nose. You gently press the
faded tea towel back in place, grip the cold wheel with your other hand, and
speed up again down the dark country lane.
It’s not
the first time mum’s caught you with her elbow or fist, flailing in panic as you
try to clean her up. Those last scraps of atrophied grey matter are in a
permanent muddle now. No longer daughter, forever an attacker. Because who else
would be taking her clothes off and touching her there? Night after night, your
endless routine, ducking and dodging the left hook of an 86-year-old woman
covered in shit and screaming for help with true terror in her voice.
You check
the passenger seat again for your overnight bag. The one you keep ready for
times like this when your skin is crawling and your stomach burning with the
need to be out, out, out.
Just then you
pass a turnoff heading towards the motorway, and you realise this is farther
than you’ve ever driven. Usually, you’ve turned around by now. The anger and
despair settling to something like acceptance after a few miles of gritted
teeth and tears. But tonight was bad, and the extra distance feels like a gift you’ve
given yourself.
Dropping
the tea towel stiff with your blood, you rest a hand on the bag. It’s your
escape route – complete with passport and cash like you’re some kind of spy on
the run. But this isn’t a charade. A little drive with the windows down just to
clear your head. No, all of this has to be real, to be possible. It has to be your
decision to return otherwise none of it helps.
Ready now, you
calmly place both hands on the wheel, brake hard, and the car screeches to a
halt.
Silence.
Moon silvered lowlands stretch
out in all directions, their fallow fields rewilding with groves of young alder
planted down by the river. The sense of complete solitude both crushing and
welcome. You take one slow breath in, then out, crisp night air cooling your
raw throat. Then you turn the car around and head home.
