Rue the Night
Cold sweat trickled down his face remembering the events of the night. He clenched his fist as he remembered holding her warm, soft hand in one hand and holding the steering wheel in the other. And then, in a barage of oncoming headlights, her hand went cold and limp. It was too late for her. He chugged the last gulp of his fifth or sixth jack daniels and headed out. He turned the key and put one hand on the wheel and one on his chest. He began to drive, aimlessly, into oncoming traffic. He did not swerve, flinch, or even wince, he simply looked into the fast-coming headlights and smiled. She would not be the only victim tonight.