I can feel every bump, rock, crevice as she drives. I hear the tires stopping, grinding against the desert sand and pebbles. I hear her open the door and I barely feel her step out of the car. Damn, she’s still light as a feather. I hear her walk away, past me in the trunk, for some distance. Damn, she’s going to leave me here to die, slowly. She probably has another car, or she’ll hitchhike home. What guy wouldn’t pick her up? Yeah, she would do whatever it takes to get home.

What is she doing? I hear her heels come to a stop against ground. Then silence. Is she going to shoot the car with an Uzi, mafia style? What is that sound. Like a…flint? Damn, she’s gonna blow up the car! I’m gonna die painfully. She’s gonna be stranded too, but, she’s always been a fighter. She fought to get in this world; she’ll fight to take me out. Hell, she’ll probably fight death. I wish she would fight her desire for me, but I fought her and made myself her enemy. I am going to die suffering tonight.