It's raining out. You lean your head against the window, the glass cold against your cheek, and watch the world slide by.
You tremble inside like a raindrop on the verge of falling, fighting to spread yourself out, let yourself drift away into the sky, away from this car, away from him, away from the fate ahead. But even with the fear, it's so hard to move on... or maybe because of the fear.
Metal snugs around your wrist as he tightens the cuff, shattering your concentration. "None of that," he says. His voice isn't even cold, it's just empty. He touches a panel on the car's dashboard. "We'll be there soon," he adds.
Soon.
6th place (out of 30) in the 9th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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