As if it weren't already hard enough to drive with the storm pelting buckets of rain onto her windshield, her signature messy red hair was pasted over her eyes making it nearly impossible to see. Her knuckles were white knuckling the steering wheel as she navigated through the afternoon storm. If she weren't so nervous, she would push the knotted and soaked hair behind her ears.

She hadn't grown up here, and she would never get used to these god awful Florida torrential downpours. One minute, she would be headed through a sunny Publix parking lot only to come out of the store to this.

It was bad enough that all of her spur of the moment beach day supplies had gotten soaked on the mad dash to the car, but her leather flip flops felt like a used tea bag under her feet. Someone had once told her that flip flops were unsafe to drive in, but she had never heeded that advice until now— as her Boston Harbor approved footwear caught on the brake.

The car buckled under her and for a moment her body was convinced that she was about to hydroplane.

“No, not today. Please not today.” She pleaded softly to the man up above, but in the moment it felt like the dial tone was all that responded.

With a sigh of relief, she realized nothing had happened, but she checked in her rear view mirror just to be safe. Her heart pounded as she noticed the headlights behind her were coming toward her bumper faster than they should.

Did this guy not see her?

She braced for the impact that never came.

No, he definitely saw her.

Once the asshole was right on her bumper, she noticed the outline of an enraged man slamming his hands on the steering wheel. Like a toddler being told it was time for bed.

Shit. Had she accidentally brake checked him?

She threw up a hand to wave back at him. “Sorry,” she murmured, even though he wouldn't hear it.

But taking her hand off the wheel and eyes off the road for that second cost her, because pleading to the man up above didn't work when his voicemail was full.

All at once, everything went to shit. The car behind her passed her on the tsunami covered back road, and the steering wheel turned and spun without her consent. She may as well have been a passenger in an empty soda can being kicked down the road. Rightside up one second and then upside down the next. Momentum carrying the aluminum along only stopping to be crumpled under a heavy boot.

As the seatbelt fought gravity to hold her into the seat, she resisted the darkness that tried so hard to embrace her. Her eyelids tried to close like a heavy door inviting her into warmth and the way her blood dripped off the tip of her nose pulled her through it. The drip worked in tune with the beat of the ending rain lulling her further into the comfort of an unfamiliar home.

Footsteps approached, and she pried her eyes open using her hope as a crowbar. She wanted to call out and notify them that she was there. She was right here. She was alive. But the stabbing pain in her chest prevented words from forming on her lips.

The footsteps stopped within her blurring vision and confusion enveloped her as she heard a click.

Her seatbelt?

No.

As her body still hung and disobeyed gravity, a polaroid fell softly to the man's feet. It wasn't the ominous way he picked up the photo that made her realize this was her end. No, it was the way his familiar voice purred at her just as the darkness took over her consciousness.

The last words she heard were… hello, Sweetheart.