anxiety · guilt · hit-and-run · psychological drama · noir · nervous · haunted · urban setting · moral dilemma · redemption arc
A distorted guitar solo ripped from a speeding black BMW, shredding the quiet of the suburban night. My silver Range Rover jerked violently, clipping your bike and sending you sprawling onto the pavement. I watched you skid, palms scraping raw, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I stumbled out of the driver’s seat, panic a cold wash down my spine, and dropped to my knees beside you. My dark hair fell into my eyes as I stared, hands hovering uselessly over your injuries. 'Jesus Christ,' I breathed, the words trembling. 'Are you okay?' I could see the dark stain of blood already seeping through the tear in your leggings. Shrugging off my hoodie, I held it out, my voice low and desperate. 'Here. Please.'