Resentment had woven itself deeply into Fabian’s amygdala—the part of the brain he had learned responsible for processing fear, though he was sure his only stored it and breeded emotions not his. He hated driving alone on an empty road; he needed interference from the loneliness, whether it be the lonesome jogger or cluttered traffic. Luckily, he wasn’t alone in his car. His headlights paved the way on the empty road. The shine from the moon reminded him how wet his hair was. His eyes darted into the side-mirror whenever he got the slightest chance; not a creature stirring on his path.
        “Focus on the road,” Lorelei barked.
        “There’s nobody there, though,” he whispered.
        “Yeah, until there is and you’re too focused on the invisible ghosts—and then the car flips.”
        “Aren’t you being a little...”
        “A little what?”
        Her voice carried a sinister cadence. Something in her eyes always invoked the greatest fear in his amygdala—where he would never forget it.
        “Nevermind, you’re right.”
        Fabian kept his tired eyes ahead. He didn’t know when they would reach their destination. He had lost his phone and he never thought to buy a GPS—but none of that mattered. Lorelai said she knew the way.
        “Just keep driving,” she reminded.

        “I am driving.”
        She dug her nails into his thigh, a warning as to what else might dig into him if he tried to be funny again. Fabian drew a sharp breath—tears were on his tail, but he couldn’t show weakness.
        “Where are we going?” he asked again.
        "You’ll know when we get there.”
        She had not answered him the previous times; that was the most crystal clear answer he was going to pry out of her. The Redwoods on either side of his car seemed to call to him, pleading in whispers for him to turn back. Fabian felt like a small speck compared to the trees’ heavenly length and hellish downward cluster.
        Lorelai turned on his radio. Snowy static filled their ears, this seemed to pull her into a calm state. She carefully removed her nails from his thigh. The noise only fueled his anxiety, but at least some of her grip on him had been loosened.
        “Shit,” he instinctively sighed.
        The red and blue lights swung over the tar road, and swooped into their eyesight. Lorelai remained calm as she switched her favorite song off.
        “Be cool.”
        He pulled off to the side of the road, running through the multitude of ways this exact situation could go wrong in his head. He was shivering.
        The police officer tapped against his window. Fabian rolled it down.
        “Licence and registration,” he demanded.
        “Of course,” Fabian smiled.
        He leaned over to Lorelai’s side, and pulled the documents out of the glove compartment. He hid his disgust after ingesting a whiff of her scent.
        The officer glanced at the documents, and handed them back to Fabian. He shone his light into the car. Lorelai offered him a sweet smile.
        “Is there a problem, Officer?”
        “Uh... no. None at all. Y’all have a nice night, now.”
        “Oh, we will,” she winked.
        As the car grew smaller and smaller in his sight, the officer had an unshakable feeling that he recognized the girl, and he realized he had forgotten to ask why they were wet. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered anymore. Fabian watched from his rearview mirror as the police officer pulled his gun from his holster, and aimed at his own head.
        Fabian screamed. The tires screeched. Lorelai gave him a deadly glare.
        She spoke through gritted teeth, “Keep. Driving.”
        Fabian knew he had no choice. He turned the key; the engine whirred for a split second before the wheels began turning again.
        The breeze forcing its way through his window made Fabian’s teeth chatter, but he dared not remove his hands from the steering wheel. Lorelai let the static boom through his speakers. Fabian came to a crossroads, he knew not which path to take—and was reminded of lesser travelled roads but he knew Lorelai must not care much for poetry.
        “Turn left.”
        He obliged. The moon followed them like a loyal servant. The trees grew denser, and Fabian felt like they might be growing body parts. They were reaching out; their hands were aching to pick up his car like a little plastic toy, and put it on a clearer—safer—road. He wished he had a drink in his hand—no, not a drink; he wished he had the whole damn bottle. He wished with his whole heart, but his head knew what happens when you mix the wrong liquor with gasoline.
        Fabian looked into the side-mirror again—still not a soul coming after them. He looked at Lorelai. Her eyes were closed. When the moon struck her face, it was soft and kind. He had never seen anything more delicate; not even a freshly bloomed flower or a painted masterpiece. He knew not how such a beauty could invoke such gut-wrenching, heart-palpitating fear—but she did, and she was only softer on the eye because she knew her plan would not be foiled. Fabian wished he knew what her plan was, or who she was.
        “Are we almost there?”
        Her eyes snapped open. They were wild and filled with resentment when she met his gaze.
        “Focus on the road.”
        His eyes were fixated on the road before she said it; he feared getting lost in her orbs and drowning in her emptiness.
        “We’re almost there,” she finally answered.
        “Where are we going?” he tried again.
        She pulled a small, sharp object from a strap around her thigh.
        “No, no, please...” he begged. “I was just curious, but I won’t ask again.”
        She cackled, “You need to learn your lesson, though, Fabian.”
        She jammed the blade into his thigh. In a reflex, he slammed on the brakes. He wailed in pure, innocent agony. She laughed as his tears made his cool cheeks slick with heat.
        “C-can I roll up the window?” he sniffed.
        “No. Keep driving.”
        He drove.
        Her stained dress clung to her body. She snapped her neck to the side, and Fabian shuddered within his goose flesh as her joints cracked. She wrung out her wet hair onto the floor of his car. The static stopped. Her eyes remained on him.
        “Do you seriously not recognize me?”
        Lorelai’s eyes grew big and painful, like a deer about to be hit with headlights.
        “No...?”
        Fabian was unsure of his answer, he thought a face like hers was one no one could ever forget—but he also thought he should have lied, and said yes.
        “Don’t look so nervous,” she cooed. “You will recognize me, soon enough.”
        He didn’t know what she meant, but he knew he only had one job—keep driving.
        The dagger shifted and scraped his thigh-meat with every movement he made. He felt like it must be thinning his bone down to a toothpick, but he knew better than to remove the only thing keeping his wound sealed.
        “Where’d you get the knife?”
        He was afraid of what she might do to him, but sometimes the fear of silence overpowered whatever threat might be staring right into his eyes.
        “It’s yours.”
        He looked down, and then quickly snapped his eyes back to the road. She was right. It was a pocket knife his father had gotten him for his twelfth birthday—he would have preferred anything else but he faked his gratitude.
        “Perfect for hunting rabbits, sonny boy.”
        He gasped, his tongue felt like it swole and occupied every inch of his mouth.
        “D-dad?”
        “N-no,” she mocked. “It’s still just me.”
        The trees began thinning as the road began to wind. He followed the trail, because there was nowhere else to go. The road and its yellow lines swiftly flying by, tickled something in his memory. He didn’t know what he was remembering, but he knew it was suddenly hard to breathe.
        “Almost there, sweetheart.”
        Sweetheart. That’s what his mother used to call him when she would console him. Did this woman know everything about who he was?
        His breathing grew rapid. His heart pounded in his head. The loosely planted trees whispered. The wind howled. The moon hid behind a cloud.
        Turn back, they all said.
        Turn back!
        Turn back!
        Turn back!
        “Don’t you dare,” Lorelai twisted the knife that stood like a piece of jewelry in his body.
        He yelped, but fought against his nervous system. He wondered if she could hear his thoughts (every voice he was imagining was screaming their worries; every voice that was just his intuition.)
        She saw the haunting knowledge dawn upon him. It was in the way his eyes widened. It
was in the way his breath ran cold. It was in the way his lips were quivering.
        “Stop driving.”
        He obliged.
        The apparition beside him flickered into the road. He pushed his door open. His good leg had to do most of the heavy lifting. He watched her as she lay in the position he first met her. The moon was just as invisible that night, too. The headlights were also the only light he had. She was croaking. Blood propelled from her mouth as she let out a wheezing cough.
        “Help... me...” she pleaded.
        Her broken, scathed, body dyed her white dress a pained crimson. He watched himself in absolute horror. Her voice faltered when he asked her name. Her orbs remained staring when her lips parted. He threw the woman over his shoulder. He tossed her body into his trunk. The bottles of liquor served as her rocky, graveyard bed.
        “No...”
        Fabian turned to leave.
        “Where do you think you’re going?” her gargling voice demanded from his slammed shut trunk. He began a limping run, wishing anybody—or anything—else would come save him now.
Lorelai was in front of him, grinning like a devil.
        “Not so fast.”

        He was in his car again. The car was speeding in rebellion against the limit. His speedometer’s needle couldn’t get where it needed to be.
        “Keep driving.”
        Lorelai laughed maniacally, and insistently—it began sounding like she was crying. She was wailing in pain, in hatred, in resentment.
        Fabian slammed his foot into the brakes—the car didn’t stop, and it wouldn’t ever stop. He kept trying and Lorelai remained revelling in her delight and sadness.
        The car was inches from the lake. The brakes refused to help him. The speedometer’s
glass shattered. The car flew into the air. Fabian knew he was about to meet the same fate he
had condemned Lorelai to. He was going to drown. His lungs would fill with water. He
would choke. He would know all he needed was a breath, a single breath, and he would be
saved. He knew he would never, ever receive that breath.
        The car slammed into the water. It slowly started to sink. The water streamed into his open
window.
        Flashes of Lorelai’s lifeless body streamed into his brain. He knew the rocks would weigh her down. He knew her body would remain at the bottom of that lake. He knew nobody
would find her there. He knew—thought—he had gotten away with it. He thought every trace
of her would evaporate. He thought he could forget.
        The past never forgets, and it always comes back to haunt from a new corner in the amygdala—Fabian knows real ghosts are brought back by fear.
        “Do you remember me now?”
        “I am... so sorry,” he was crying again.
        “That is not good enough. Keep driving.”
        Resentment had woven itself deeply into Fabian’s amygdala—the part of the brain he had learned responsible for processing fear, though he was sure his only stored it and breeded emotions not his. He hated driving alone on an empty road; he needed interference from the loneliness, whether it be the lonesome jogger or cluttered traffic. Luckily, he wasn’t alone in his car.