Off Roading

We're driving down the highway. It's night. Everything seems fine; except I realize that we haven't laughed or smiled at each other in a while. I start to inspect the situation. Sure we've only been together for 4 or 5 months -- but something is off. I can feel it; even if I can't put my finger on it.

Maybe we've made a wrong turn and he's going over the route in his mind?

"Everything, OK?" I ask. He doesn't respond. I start to get the sense that we might drive into a ditch. I don't have a good feeling. We pass a sign that says, "HAPPINESS BACK THAT WAY". I double-blink to make sure that I read it correctly. I don't think I like where we are heading.

He turns the car off the road. The lights from the highway are quickly swallowed up by the dark of night. I roll down my window a little to hear the sounds. Nothing. Not even a cricket. We continue to drive in awkward silence. I'm not sure where he is taking us; but I don't think I want to go there. I want to go back to the highway. Back to Happiness.

I mention that to him, but he remains mute. I feel the car start to accelerate into the darkness. I double-check to make sure that my seat belt is on.

"Maybe we should slow down" I say. I'm a little more firm. I want him to know that I'm really unhappy with what he is doing. But he pushes his foot a little harder on the gas pedal, and we pick up speed.

I know that wherever we are headed -- it won't be good. I start to get angry, then frustrated, that he doesn't take how I feel into consideration. He doesn't seem to care that what he is doing could put the both of us in serious harm. I fear the worst is coming.

The road becomes more bumpy. It's filled with potholes. We drive along for days like this -- hitting this pothole, then that one. At first I try to make do with it, but the shocks on the car eventually go; and the jagged jerks from the bended axles begin to wreak havoc on our composure.

"Just stop!" I plead with him, but my cries are once again ignored. I have no idea where we are headed. There was a point (when we were closer to Happiness) that I could look to the stars and more or less figure out where we were. But, by now the the drive has exhausted me -- and looking up only confuses me more.

He continues to accelerate into the darkness. I grab the door handle out of fear. Just when I think it can't get any worse it does. The back tire is blown off by a landmine. I suddenly realize that the potholes aren't potholes - but craters. And, from his lack of uncertainty and fixed gaze on the darkness ahead, it becomes obvious that he has driven this road before.

"Stop! I don't want to do this anymore!" I plead. But he only hits the gas a little harder. He takes us past another landmine. This one blows off one of the back doors. I scream, but he still continues to drive forward. Each time hitting another landmine -- until the car eventually can not move any further.

I sit there for a moment and try to regroup. I don't even make eye contact with him. He's not the person I used to know back in Happiness. Back in Happiness this person would never put me in harm's way. He used to care about me. But now, here, on some dark lonely road -- I see his true maniacal colours. I open the door and slowly spill out onto the ground. I pray with every step that I won't hit one of his landmines. I only see the most recent craters on the road in front of me -- but I know there are hundreds. It may take a long while -- weeks or months, before I get back to the highway.

Regardless, I press on. I take careful steps in the dark night -- hoping not to disturb any of his landmines. And, knowing, that even though the road ahead seems insurmountable -- it is the only way out. So I walk. Bloodied and broken. Because only I am able take me away from here.