Henry Curtis' Last Ride, a misc. books fanfic

This is it,

I have nothing,

Lost it all,

I am nothing but an idiot! Who wants to live with me?

I cannot be around, when they find out.

No one will ever forgive what I've done

It was a snowy winter evening and Henry Curtis was leaving his house to go for a drive. He had spent the day on the computer dealing with his clients from Africa. He needed to clear his mind, sets things straight and face his issues. He dragged his beat up body into his garage and slumped into the seat of his old car. He slammed his head against the steering wheel. He thought of better times, of happier times. His family had no idea how he actually felt, he acted happy around them. They could find out the truth if they did he might as well be dead. He pulled out of the drive away, the front end of his car nailed the garbage can, toppling it end over end, until it came to a rest in the middle of the street. He smacked the steering wheel, not like he cared, he no plans on coming home that night. He speed away from his home, and his family.

He drove down the street and headed out of town, drove away like a coward, he knew this, but he couldn't face his fears head on. He was scared, more than ever in his life. He had messed up, but he alright knew this. They had gained everything he ever worked for. He had lost it all. He drove on, shifting his old car into fifth gear speeding well over the speed limit. His car hit 100kph, he never was a speeder, Henry Curtis respected the law. But tonight was different, he put his foot to the floor, and shifted the car into sixth gear. He cursed as he grinded the gears, but continued on. He broke out into a sweat even though it was a chilly night, he was stressed. He had made a major mistake in agreeing to work with these people. As he drove along the outskirts of Calgary his mind raced through the possibilities. Was it possible to get his money back? How would he tell his family? What would happen to them? He passed car after car of happy looking people, headed home from work, but he felt hopeless, he was almost desperate. And he wasn't driving home he was driving right into the mouth of hell.

He had begun to look for any possible escape from, he continued speeding along the highway weaving in and out of cars. Henry's driving had turn reckless. So he slammed on the brakes and took turn onto a winding road, that lead back into the city. This road was deserted, it was only him, his car and the road. He thought about better times being a teenager driving along this exact road where him and his buddies would race cars and have a party will the sun came back up. Those were better days, but could this road be where he takes his own life. Ending it all. Was it a good way to leave. suicide? The road had a bend up ahead, he had remembered this bend. His best friend had drove his car into the ditch one night, totalling the front end. He took the turn at full throttle and aimed the car at the ditch across the road. He pushed the gas pedal as far as it would go closed his eyes and….

Slammed down and the brakes, the car's backend flared uncontrollable as he screeched to a halt.