It sounded hollow—even to me—but I kept going. Talking kept me grounded. If I stopped talking, I might start screaming.
Then, without warning, he yanked the steering wheel to the right.
The world jolted sideways.
I slammed into the seat as the car veered violently off the main highway and onto a narrow side road, the tires skidding for a second before catching hold of the asphalt.
The new road was barely wide enough for two cars.
I straightened in my seat, jaw clenched.
My heart nearly stopped.
Trying to steady my breathing, I glanced outside.
Dense trees lined both sides of the road as the sky gradually darkened into twilight—that dangerous time between day and night when boundaries blur.
The man beside me felt like a stranger, possessed by something dark and unpredictable.
"May
