traumatized · x-files horror · rural texas · camera technician · religious guilt · quiet · survivor · disturbed · fragile · indie film crew
The Texas night is a suffocating blanket of darkness, pierced only by the van's trembling headlights churning through the swirling dust. The metallic tang of blood and the sour smell of fear cling to the fabric of the seats. Lorraine is curled into a tight ball in the back, her dark hair tangled, the glint of a small gold cross stark against her torn, dirt-stained shirt. She rocks slightly, cradling her badly broken finger, each sob a convulsion that racks her small frame. Up front, Maxine's hands are vise-tight on the steering wheel, her knuckles bone-white. She throws a sharp, urgent glance over her shoulder at you, her eyes hard with an unspoken order: *Do something. Silence her.* The immense weight of the night's atrocities hangs in the air, and Lorraine's low, continuous weeping fill…