Trust
As he headed for her, it occurred to her how much she had trusted people her whole life. How many times had she driven on this stretch of road, trusting that everyone else on the road would do what they were supposed to? That they’d stay in their lane and not come at her like he was right at this moment and kill her?
Sure, there are always news stories about accidents, about people, intentionally or not, ruining others’ lives, but, in general, you trust that the people around you are good people, careful people.
This guy looked like an asshole, like a frat boy who would strut around campus or a mall or a bar like he owned the fucking place. Pretty good chance he took advantage of a drunk girl at a party. Pretty good chance he’s all about the bro-hug. Pretty good chance his dad was in the same frat when he went to college. Pretty good chance he was rich by the looks of the bmw headed for her front left fender.
God, she hated frat boys. Why couldn’t it be someone else that didn’t make her feel more bitter about losing her life? Why not a stressed out single mom who earned the right to be tired or distracted?
Goddamn, a fucking frat boy was going to be the fucking end to her.
“You have got to be kidding me,” were her last words.
