Chapter 1 - Driver

NOTE: None of the characters belong to me. I claim no ownership over them, and leave it all to the genius of James Sallis, Hossein Amini, and Nicolas Winding Refn.


Not everyone deserved to be happy. He knew that. He stared directly at the light, waiting for his body to take him away. Instead, captured moments from the past few weeks that he kept hidden away slowly materialized in front of him.

Benicio's arms on his dash, laughing and drenched in orange dusk. The kid loved driving and cars almost as much as he did. Irene laughing as well with a bit more unease as her arms tightened around her son when he gently pulled up on an incline.

Cartoon sharks and Benicio's blue sock-covered foot over his leg. Easy. Simple. Relaxed. He never wanted to watch cartoons on a Saturday evening before. He usually had a job to do. Not then. Then (was it only a few days ago?), he thought he could have a family and lead a simple, quiet life.

He could almost feel the cool metal of the golden bullet in his hand again. It would be something Benicio will never have to worry about after this. He made sure of it. He was safe.

His mind quickly fixated on the memory of one simple, quiet kiss. He hadn't expected her to respond, still feeling the sting from her slap just moments before. Her lips were soft and full. Life finally slowed down as he held her tiny waist and memorized the feeling of those lips against his before he reluctantly let her go. He couldn't look away from her as she slowly raised her eyes to study him, hesitant, yearning, and quiet.

And then he saw the way that she looked at him as walls closed up all around them. They were completely exposed to each other, him with blood and sweat spattered across his face and her standing in the middle of the parking garage in her clean white shirt and purse slung over her shoulder, ready to run some errands. She looked at him with a realized sadness that made time freeze.

Light flooded his vision again, and he saw the road ahead of him. Drive. He slowly blinked and shifted, ready to move on, move on from this. Blood, a bagful of black money. He closed the door with finality and drove out of the parking lot, with no one destination in mind. Just a feeling pulling him towards something he couldn't quite describe.


Author's Note: Please REVIEW! Let me know if there's any reason for me to continue or if I should seek another hobby. If you don't like it and don't want to continue reading, I would appreciate a review on where/why I lost your interest :)