The Pink Caddy lurches forward off the road and shoots down a hill.

I’m screaming at the top of my lungs as she tries to regain control of the car, slamming the brakes. Finally we’re slowing down, but before the tires can find purchase, we hit a tree.

The airbags discharge and I’m disoriented from their punch. But the impact is minor—bruises, not broken bones.

“Are you okay?” Elise asks beside me.

“Stay away from me,” I say, freeing myself from the seat belt and popping open the door.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t care as long as it’s far away from you!” My legs are weak and I’m stumbling, but I have to get away.

“You can’t leave!”

I keep going.

“No one will ever love you like I do!” she screams after me desperately.

“Good!” I shout back, but I’m beginning to feel faint. The exhaustion and grief is catching up.

If this is love then I don’t want it. Love isn’t need, isn’t holding another person in a death grip.

“Stop,” she says, pushing open the door, scrambling after me.

“Stay away from me,” I say weakly, collapsing to the ground from the exertion, heaving. My head hurts. Everything’s spinning around me.

“You can’t leave me. You can’t,” she says, catching up. The Pink Caddy is behind her, smoke and steam rising from under the crushed hood. The tree stands strong, unaffected. “I’ll die without you, I will.” She’s beside me now, also on her knees, hands gripping the grass, tears falling.

I shake my head, try to stand again.

Even though we’re off an exit in the middle of nowhere, a couple cars have passed, though none stop.

“I will,” she insists. “I’ll die without you.”

Elise grabs my wrist and I shove her off me.

“Get away from me!” I cry, trying to catch my breath, my footing.

Suddenly she does, hobbling in the opposite direction toward the Pink Caddy. Propping myself up with hands on my knees, I can’t pull in enough air. The whole world seems to tilt and sway, the ground shifting beneath me. Struggling, I manage to push myself all the way up to see Elise emerge from the passenger side, glove compartment left hanging open.

I don’t notice the gun until she’s lifting it. For a second I think she’s going to point it at me. For a second I think I’m going to die.

But she raises it to her own temple.

“Don’t leave me, Remy. Please don’t leave me,” she cries.

“No!” I stumble toward her, tripping and falling. “Elise, no!”

“I don’t know how to exist without you, I can’t do it,” she sobs. “I need you, Remy. I need you.”

“No, no, no,” I say, finally reaching her. Dimly, I register a car finally pulling over near us. Elise squeezes her eyes shut and I lunge forward.

I knock the revolver from her hand. It hits the car seat and bounces into the passenger side footwell. She’s after it immediately and manages to retrieve it.