Alex wrapped his tie around the old man's neck and pulled. Hard. His other hand was shaking so badly he could barely make a fist, but he swung anyway, connecting with the side of the old man's face.
"Stop the car! Just stop the fucking car!"
Blood. There was so much blood. It sprayed across the dashboard, got on Alex's hands, warm and sticky. The old man's nose was definitely broken. Maybe his jaw too.
But he was still smiling.
"Don't worry," the old man coughed, blood bubbling between his teeth. "We'll be there soon."
"Where?! Where are we going?!" Alex's voice cracked. He pulled the tie tighter, using the headrest for leverage. "I said stop!"
The truck kept going. Faster, if anything. The engine screamed.
'He's not going to stop. Oh god, he's never going to stop.'
Alex scrambled into the backseat, his injured foot throbbing with every movement. He kept his grip on the tie and planted both feet against the back of the driver's seat.
