Bella

The drive back to my place was quiet. The kind of quiet that presses in on all sides, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional swish of tires over wet pavement. Darrell kept both hands on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, but I could feel him glancing at me every few minutes—quick, careful looks like he was checking if I was still breathing.

I stared out the passenger window at the passing streetlights, their orange glow smearing across the glass in streaks. My head rested against the cool window, forehead pressed to it until the chill seeped into my...