She tried to focus on keeping her hands on the wheel as she drove through the night. It was pitch black out, and the country road she was speeding down continued on in neverending darkness, with no lights to illuminate the way. She  stopped her hands from shaking just long enough to see the blood on them, and then the shaking  started back up.
She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She had finally won. The game between them had become one of life and death, and she was the one still living.  Her reflection in the mirror revealed one long cut down the side of her face, blood dripping down her cheek. It would scar, she was certain of that.
Good, she thought. That way I’ll never forget.
Each time the car hit a bump in the road, she could hear the noise from the trunk. She tried her best not to picture the white sheet she had taken out of the hall closet. It was new, and she wished she had used an old one instead. She tried even harder to not picture what was inside the sheet. She wanted to erase the images of the pale skin and the lifeless eyes and the blood splatters, but she couldn’t. Her brain wanted her to  remember what she had done, what she had been brave enough to do.
She couldn’t quite conjure up the entire scene. She remembered the yelling and the shoving. That was how it  had started time and time again. Though this time, it had ended differently. She remembered seeing the knife and reaching out for it. Had there been a struggle for the knife? That part was black to her. Once she finally grabbed the handle, she waved the knife blindly, plunging into whatever flesh she could find. It went on like that for what felt like hours, but maybe it was only  seconds. There was some resistance at one point, and somehow the knife was turned on her. It’s wielder painted one red line across her cheek before she took control again. After that, it became blurry. She could stitch together bits and pieces, but not enough to see it all clearly. Somehow she’d managed to lug it out into the trunk of the car, the whole time her heart beating as though she were running a marathon. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she thought she was going to faint. But, instead of fainting, she slammed the trunk shut and started the car.
Now, she was driving without a destination, trying to figure out her next move. Part of her, the weak part, the scared part, wanted to turn around and take her chances. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she would wake up and it would all be a dream and everything would go back to how it was. The other part of her resented that whole idea. She didn’t want things to go back to how they were. She’d wanted change, and she’d gotten it.
She had been driving for over an hour when she came to the bridge. She could hear the water rushing under it, and she wanted nothing more than to swim in it and wash the blood from her hands. She thought about how cool and nice the water would feel and how much she wanted to take a long bath.
Before she knew what was happening, she was swerving into the side of the bridge. The rickety wood splintered and broke, and the car went into the water. She felt a strange, almost spiritual calm come over her, and even though she had never been a strong swimmer, she was not worried. She was light and weightless, and for a moment she was even carefree. As more water seeped into the car, she rubbed her hands together and watched as the red washed away. She recognized her hands again, and she knew that they were hers.
The water rose higher and higher, but she was not afraid. When she tried to unbuckle her seatbelt she was met with slight difficulty, but the latch soon gave way. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, and she noticed for the first time how nice it felt to have air fill her lungs. Soon she was completely under water, but she made no effort to get out of the car. She thought about how easy it would be to not come up for air. She was just becoming comfortable with the idea of dying when her lungs began to scream for oxygen.
She pushed the door with all of her strength, and after a few tries it opened. She swam to the surface as fast as she could, and seconds later she felt the cool night air hit her skin. Though she was exhausted, she made her way to the shore. Climbing out of the water, she could  see the car as it sank to the bottom of the river. She allowed herself one final glance at the trunk, one final thought  of what was in  it, and then she walked away.