A Narrative of when I was particularly nervous

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Narrative of when I was particularly nervous

How could my mother do this to me? I thought she was on my side. Not again. Not this. I don’t want this.

My legs shiver under the tremendous pressure crushing down on me. The world seemed to spiral before my eyes. I need to sit down. I can barely walk to the car that would take me on the highway to hell, as my legs tremble and quiver.

We’re off. There’s no going back now. This is it. This is really happening.

The windows shrieks as it recedes into the door. A forceful blast of cold, winter air slams into my drenched face, sending beads of cold sweat that were settling on my water flying into the car seat, and soaking into the warm, depressed fabric.

Join now!

I look ahead and see endless rows of red, piercing flares ahead of our car.

There’s been a pile up. My saviour. I sigh a heavy breath of relief as the sweat dries off my coated palms and shimmering face. A smile cleaves its way onto my face. Phew.

But then, my senses pick up a minute movement at the front of the metallic snake ahead of us


No. No. No, this can’t be. I thought this was over. I thought I was free. Before I know it, droplets of salty water form on my hand and forehead. It ...

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