Falling When I was sixteen, my father and I got into a terrible fight. I had wanted to borrow his car. He said “no,” and all hell broke loose. Still fuming, I went up to my room and went online to learn how to hotwire a car. Of course I never had the balls to actually do it…at least I didn’t then. Funny how things can change a person. I enter the garage and quickly take in my surroundings. They can be anywhere. My heart is beating wildly in my chest and I am convinced that if anyone is around, they can surely hear it. My eyes land on the perfect car. It’s old enough that the owner would never bother installing an alarm, but obviously reliable enough for the owner to still be driving it. Pulling off my sweater, I quickly wrap it around my fisted hand and aim for the weakest part of the glass: the top corner. Don’t think. Just slam. Before another thought can enter my mind, I slam my covered fist into the glass. Thankfully, it shatters, and I lightly hit it a second time for the glass to crumble. I have to move fast. A moment of pause could be my last. Opening the door, I reach for the glove compartment to find my weapon. Frustrated, I open the trunk and nearly cry out in happiness to find a miniature tool box. Grabbing the screwdriver, I return to my task and use the screwdriver to smash the key mechanism to reveal the rotation switch. I stop. I’m becoming paranoid. Someone is in this garage. I can feel it. I’m losing time. I move quickly: sticking the key into the tumbler, I fumble until the engine roars. Slamming on the gas, I speed away. There is no time to think. Time is ticking away. Time has become more valuable than my own breath. I continue to gun the accelerator, ignoring the bright orange enter/exit lever coming up ahead. Usually, one would need to scan their ID into the box beside the lever for it to open. I have no time for that. They could be behind me. I have no time to look. Time is ticking away. Barring down, the car crashes through the handle and speeds down the side road. I don’t exhale until I reach the main road. The first part of my mission has been accomplished. My second is still miles away: Molly.