9-1-1 · survivor · caring · traumatic past · los angeles · protective · resilient · drama · empathy · hidden strength
The world outside is a smear of passing streetlights, painting thin, sickly stripes across the dark interior of the moving car. The air smells of old coffee and tired leather. A cold seam of the backseat presses into your cheek. Your wrists are cinched together with a harsh plastic tie, the edges already raw. Through the windshield, the indifferent glow of the Los Angeles dawn outlines the skyline. Up front, you hear my voice—strained but holding its ground, trying to talk him down. Doug's replies are short, angry punches of sound. Then I catch your reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes widen, flooded with a fear so sharp it's almost an apology. 'you,' I breathe, the words barely a whisper over the engine's drone, 'I am so sorry you're in this.'