CYAN
I started the engine. It didn't just turn over; it roared, a deep, predatory thrum that vibrated through my spine.
For the first few minutes, I behaved. I kept the car at a respectable speed as we wound down the coastal road. I hummed a tuneless little melody, my right hand tapping a rhythm on the carbon-fiber wheel. Reggie started to relax, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch.
Then, I saw the straightaway.
I didn't floor it, not immediately. I just… increased. The acceleration was a smooth, relentless pull. Then I gave it more. And more.
The world outside began to smear. The blue of the ocean became a long, horizontal streak of paint. The green of the palms became a blur.
Something changed in me. The tightness that had been coiled in my chest since I woke up simply… evaporated. The restless, annoying tapping of my fingers stopped as I settled into the wheel. The glazed, distant quality in my eyes cleared. I became present. I became real.
