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The car feels like it’s rolling into corners far more than it usually does, but I know the problem isn’t mechanical – it’s the result of the substances that are swimming around in the chemistry of my brain. I’ve only been legally old enough to drive for just over a year, but I feel an enormous sense of confidence as I take the bends on the country roads with relative ease.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles slowly turning white. I can feel the blood pulsing at my temples; a strangely irregular rhythm. I keep repeating her comment over and over in my head. That was where things started to go wrong. It was derisive, almost mocking me. And I don’t think she was joking. From there, everything she said began to turn the screw, slowly grinding away at me until I couldn’t take it
