Resolution

The roar grows louder with each passing second. My palms sweat, my knees shake. Like water rushing from faucet to bathtub, it’s deafening. The wind in my hair, and the roar in my ears. The only elements that keep me sane. Our car hits 60 70 80 miles per hour. My mother sobs like an orphan forgotten. My father focuses on the road, looking anywhere but at her. It hurts too much to see her like this. The car rounds a bend, the sun shines directly into my eyes. I try not to squint, enjoying the pain. It reminds me that I am still alive. That I will not fade away quickly like he did.