Narrative Essay On Drunk Driving

I’d never do this to her, never! I’m shocked she doesn’t believe, but at the same time I can’t say I blame her. Ryan set me up well, really fucking well! And, he has our money. Tilting my head backwards, I knock back the glass of cold water I made in the kitchen to help flush out the shitty substance I’m convinced Ryan planted in my beer. The coldness of the water trickling down inside me does little to help the anguish I have for him. Naturally, my teeth start to bare and a resenting expression begins controlling my face, leaving a strong desire to squeeze the glass in my hand. I refrain from breaking it. I’ve broken enough things already, it’s time I fix it. That time is now. **** “Start you piece of shit, start!” I yell at the satellite navigation, whilst sitting in our beaten up car.
The haste of running out of the house and jumping in here has caused an overpowering head rush, one that I cannot seems to shift. Luckily I feel fit to drive despite what he done to my beer. I must have slept the worst effects of it off.
“Please, please, please,” I beg.
With a few more desperate

I’m going to make it five minutes! Spurred on to find this scumbag, I swiftly fasten my seatbelt and start the ignition before eagerly slamming my foot down on the accelerator. As the car and I skid away from the house, I ride out the intense humps and bumps of the muddy road until I get down to the main streets that connect onto the route I need to take. It seems as though fate is on my side, there is not a single car on the road, making it much easier to speed my way through. With both hands firmly on the steering wheel, and the intermittent flickering between the road and the sat-navigation, my mind strays back to earlier. Memories start to become more vivid and well-rounded. Despite still being somewhat distorted, one memory remains. The