•Before I Let Go•

•Chapter 8•

"Pull the car over!" Cory demanded as the sensation in his chest grew colder, spreading throughout his limbs, "Alida, please—pull the car over." Cory rephrased his demand as politely as he could.

There was nowhere to pull over—they were driving on the left side of a four lane highway, coming up on a 4-way intersection stoplight with cars beside them.

"I can't pull over. When we get to the stoplight, I'll put on my caution lights-"

Cory opened the door, causing Alida to hit the brakes—he was about to jump out of a moving car. "Cory!" Alida exclaimed, turning on her turn signal to get in the right lane.

Perhaps it was because she braked so abruptly, or perhaps the person in the car beside them saw the passenger door open—whatever the reason—the driver next to them fell back, letting Alida in front of them.

Alida came to a stop at the light, putting on her caution lights as Cory fought with the seatbelt keeping him restrained inside the vehicle. He thrashed—jerking and pulling on the confines of the strap until remembering to unlatch the buckle.

Cory jumped out of the car, slamming the door shut before walking across the intersection. He veered through traffic, ignoring the honking cars as he made his way over the grassy knoll just beyond the light—where the four lanes became two.

"Oh my God..." Alida whispered like a prayer, covering her mouth with both hands as she stared at Cory across the intersection in disbelief.

He had nearly jumped out of a moving car. Alida was stunned—never would she have thought Cory to do something so stupid.

He had been so hungover this morning that he could barely move without wincing; yet in the blink of an eye, he became fast and limber—yanking and tugging at the seatbelt, trying to escape.

After the light turned green, Alida made a left, pulling over on the side of the road where Cory had disappeared.

Keeping her flashers on, Alida got out of the car, making her way down the grassy knoll to search for Cory.

He stood with a lit cigarette between his fingers—looking back at Alida over his shoulder as smoke billowed out of his mouth, drifting in a cloud before evaporating into the wind.

Cory turned away, looking at the grass below his feet.

He was embarrassed—ashamed by his actions. It came out of nowhere; he was lucky he got out of the car when he did, or else he wouldn't have been able to catch his breath in time—he wouldn't have been able to calm himself down before shit hit the fan—really hit the fan.

Alida was concerned about Cory; so concerned, in fact, that she hadn't realized where they were—what had been the cause of setting him off.

Alida traveled the intersection nearly everyday. What had happened there a decade earlier rarely crossed her mind nowadays. The only time she really thought of it was on Aidan's birthday—or Cory's.

Alida stood observing the side of his face. He didn't dare look over; he kept his eyes ahead, looking toward the open pasture just below the hill.

Without thinking it through, Alida placed her hand on his shoulder; her thumb gently stroking the collage of ink on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Cory—I travel this road everyday, I didn't think about." Alida spoke in a soft, comforting voice.

Cory's eyes went to her hand, watching her thumb brush against his arm carefully—as if she cared about him. He began to regain balance in his knees again; his unsteady extremities becoming stable.

Cory's gaze trailed from her fingers sweeping along his flesh to her eyes. Her aquamarine irises were penetrating the depths of his soul—a soul he wasn't so sure even existed.

He became lost in them, watching her large pupils fluctuate to the rhythm of her beating heart.

Cory was calm; he wasn't just tranquil, he had forgotten where he was—why he was standing on the side of a highway overlooking a field.

You don't deserve her.

The voice echoed in his mind, ripping Cory away from the euphoric serenity of Alida's eyes.

Alida spoke, "I know it's hard, I understand. It gets easier though, I promise-"

"How the fuck would you know?" Cory snapped. He stepped away, causing her hand to fall from his shoulder. "You weren't there." Cory glared, hoping to intimidate her. He needed her to hate him as much as he hated himself for what had happened.

Cory didn't need her consolation—her "support." He needed her to hate him. The way his feelings for her enveloped him was immoral; where he stood made it exceptionally wrong.

Alida's face twisted angrily. She couldn't believe Cory's impudence; the gall to have such a strong opinion on the matter of who had suffered more regarding Aidan's death.

"You know," Alida scoffed, "you weren't there either—not for the hard part that came after. You ran away, which is pretty fucking pathetic. You weren't the only one that lost somebody that day, Aidan was my brother." Alida started back to the car, leaving Cory alone.

Cory watched Alida walk away, presumably going back to the car. He figured she'd leave him there—that much he deserved.

Cory finished his cigarette, flicking the filter toward the pasture as far as it would go.

He started back toward the road, expecting to have to make a long journey back to Alida's house for the rental car he had left behind.

He thought of venturing to the nearest hotel instead, but stopped when seeing that Alida was waiting for him. She was still parked in the clear zone on the shoulder of the road.

With his head down, Cory made his way back to the car, getting back in the passenger seat.

Without either saying a word, Cory strapped himself back in as Alida pulled off—merging back into traffic.