Her bloodshot eyes seemed to float around, never focusing on one specific spot. Only one of her hands was placed on the steering wheel, and she seemed to be disoriented. I didn't understand -- what was wrong? I tried talking to her, but she casually waved me off with her right hand and continued to drive. I could feel the car picking up speed, and I softly told her that she should slow down. I didn't want to get pulled over by the police tonight. I was already sneaking out of the house against my parents' wishes. She tried to say something in return to me, but her speech seemed to be slurred and I couldn't even make out what she was rambling about.
And then it hit me. I knew what had happened, and I knew why she was acting this way. But it was too late. Before I could even try to do anything about the situation, I felt the car swerve left and I shut my eyes as tight as I could. It felt like I opened them only moments later, but this time, I wasn't sitting in the tiny red sports car that I had seemed to been in only moments before ...