And a banana clip

Car rides almost always relax me. I love the gentle hum and vibrations that engulfs its passengers in such a comforting rhythm. I love how the scene changes with lights and pedestrians and other cars passing by. I love how all I have to do is sit back and watch and sometimes wonder where each of them are going and why.

I can count maybe three car rides that I have not particularly enjoyed. My driving test with the hefty middle aged man sitting two feet away, critiquing every move I made, was one. The ride to QuickCare cradling a bleeding index finger where the top of a bean can had conveniently found a clean path across was another.

The third (and probably worst) took place last night.

"Let's go," my father said emotionless. It must have been drained in his yelling and frustration with Ed and me.

Yes, Ed was visiting again. And he was beyond infuriated with my dinner. Ed and I had made a pact earlier in the day to make peace with each other once again. I would get back to my normal, emaciated self, control everything that went into (or out of) my mouth, and all would be well again. Ed had promised me this. And I believed him.

Part of this deal was to resist the temptations of my old friend: the peanut butter. Just don't do it. Not even one piece of toast. Think of the fat. 16 grams! 16! Ed etched into my mind.

I had followed Ed's every command flawlessly until the evening came and with it-hunger.

One innocent slice of peanut butter toast turned into three and four and six until Ed was screaming at me to stop, screaming at me about how pathetic I was, screaming at me until my sobs overpowered his voice and he left me for my parents to devour.

Another screaming/sobbing match later and I found myself in my car, sporting pajamas and a pink bath robe, wishing that it was only a cut finger that was troubling me.

The ride was numbing. I tried to distance myself as much as possible from my father sitting just a few feet away. I was stiff and tired. I tried to distract myself with nighttime images passing by but to no avail. My head was floating in the tension piercing through the air.

I had told them I just needed to be away, that I couldn't stand to be trapped in that house any longer. Now that they had finally listened to my pleas, all I wanted was to be back home where I could escape to my bed and try to put together the scattered pieces of my mind on my own. Alone. Away from all of this.

We rounded one last corner and there stood the sign shining in neon green lettering that gripped my stomach and stole my breath.

I wondered when I would wake up. This had to be a nightmare.