Monica eased the car to the left, following the directional arrow on the sign. The detour was taking her to an unfamiliar street. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, chewing and nibbling unconsciously - a nervous habit she had had, for as long as she could remember. She strained her eyes, trying to find anything familiar. But she couldn't.
"Hmm, it looks like," Monica mumbled, "at least I think we're heading towards the woods. But I can't tell for sure, it's so dark."
"Awesome, isn't it," Krystal replied, "There's no moon out. So naturally, the nights ink black. I think it's peaceful, makes me feel calm."
"Maybe so," Monica said, "but right now, I'd give anything for a streetlight!" A nervous giggle escaped her.
Monica clutched the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white from the steady pressure. Not realizing she was leaning forward, her eyes narrowing and straining to see - anything! - she felt her neck growing stiff. Where am I, she wondered, why can't I see anything I recognize?
Krystal leaned forward to turn up the stereo after changing the CD. Music blared, startling Monica. With a scared yelp, she jerked the wheel to the right, heading towards the dark shoulder.
"Hey!" Krystal exclaimed, "Take it easy."
Monica's grip tightened as she fought to steady the wheel, feeling the right front tire leave the security of the pavement. Eyes narrowed even further in concentration, she didn't see the approaching headlights.
I can't feel the road, she thought, chewing and worrying her lip until it bled. We're going to crash!
She yanked the wheel hard to the left, determined to straighten her course. The bright twin beams of light shining in her eyes immediately blinded her. Her mind vaguely registered Krystal's scream of terror as she wrenched the wheel back to the right, causing the Mustang to veer and bump along the shoulder.
Screeching to a halt, the driver watched the Mustang fight to stay on the road. He laughed, spittle spraying from the space where his tooth was missing as he watched the young women teetering on the edge of the steep shoulder.
The Mustang lurched unsteadily along the edge of the road for the briefest of moments, before careening over the side. Monica and Krystal's screams of horror, drowning the roar of the engine, sliced through the dark night.
"That'll teach ya," the man said, "ya uppity bitch." He calmly lit a cigarette. He stepped on his parking brake and slowly got out of his car. Moving to the spot where the Mustang had gone off the road, he peered down the embankment. He spat in disgust.
"Damn rich bitches," he said, "can't even die right. Well shit, maybe I should help 'em." He grinned as he carefully made his way to the Mustang, perched precariously on a slab of rock.
"Krystal," she asked, "Krystal, you okay?" Monica moaned loudly, turning to check on Krystal. She grasped Krystal's shoulder, shaking her, trying to rouse her, as she shrilly questioned, "Krystal? Can you hear me? Krystal?"
The man jumped on the back bumper with a loud thud, bouncing up and down.
Krystal's head rolled forward, her neck limp.
Monica's eyes opened wide, darting back and forth, eyeing her lifeless friend and the crazed man on her fender as she hissed a quiet "oh."
Shouting a triumphant yell of victory, the man jumped off the bumper as the Mustang plummeted down the steep slope.
Tumbling about inside the car, the last thing Monica heard was the man's euphoric cry, "Yeee-hawww!"