I’ve been hesitant to do this because I’ve had a hard time trusting the adults in my life lately, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m going to meet Tony, and I have no plan except part one, which was lock the boys in my room, and part two, which was tell Annalisa. Now I’m making it up as I go, so I guess part three is to call Agent Dylan. A little later than I probably should have, but it’s better than nothing.

Eight minutes.

I use Bluetooth to call Agent Dylan, and the phone’s rings are loud on my car’s speakers. With every ring that passes, my pulse beats faster and faster, and my hope that he’s actually going to answer diminishes. It goes to voice mail and I hang up my phone and redial, trying not to panic. The phone’s rings fill the car and I grip the steering wheel, praying that he’ll answer. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what I’m doing. I should just turn the car around.

What am I doing?

Agent Dylan doesn’t answer again. I hang up and bang my hand against the steering wheel until it stings. As if I already didn’t have a reason not to trust him, he decides not to answer when it’s most important, when it’s literally life and death.

The trees are getting less sparse and the buildings are basically nonexistent. I turn onto a back road and an eeriness creeps up my spine at how alone and deserted I feel.

Seven minutes.

I should turn around. I’m literally walking complacently to my own demise right now. Yes, I want to end it, but what do I think meeting up with Tony will accomplish? I have no plan and I have no weapon. He has nothing to force me to meet him other than the promise to meet Annalisa, and Annalisa is currently not near him. What do I realistically think is going to happen when I meet him? We’ll have a tea party and a little chat and decide to go on our merry little ways?

This is plain idiocy. This isn’t me; it must be the pure panic, the helplessness, the adrenaline.

I don’t have a plan.

I’m turning around. I’m going to turn around and regroup and maybe sit in the police station for a while until I can figure my shit out. What the hell was I thinking?!

Just as I decide to turn around, something on the road catches my attention.

What’s . . . “Oh shit!”

It’s too late. I notice it too late.

I drive right over the spike strip and barely register the loud popping noise of all four of my tires over the rushing in my ears. The car spins and I have no control over righting it. The trees rush past me in a blur and my body’s thrown against the center console until the car finally comes to an abrupt stop. My head is pounding even though I didn’t bang it against anything, and I somehow register the flashing of various warning lights on my car’s dash. I blink over and over and over again, trying to sort through everything, trying to force my brain out of shock.