She didn't respond. Instead, the Ferrari's engine screamed as she floored the accelerator, pulling away from me in seconds.
Before I could even process what was happening, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Cecil, behind the wheel of his truck in the next lane, was grinning. A slow, sinister grin.
He slammed on the gas and wrenched the steering wheel to the left.
The truck's cab crossed the lane divider and invaded my lane.
The realization hit me like ice water: he was going to use the truck to pin my car.
There wasn't enough time to accelerate and escape. But if I braked, the body of his truck would sideswipe me, and if I ended up wedged underneath the trailer, I'd be dead on impact.
All I could do was watch as Cecil drove the truck's cab straight into the front of my car.
A deafening crash.
The right side of my car crumpled like a tin can. The left side was crushed against the tunnel wall. Metal shrieked against concrete as the wreckage scraped forward for dozens of meters before finally grinding to a halt.
My car sat pinned inside the highway tunnel. Other vehicles screamed past, inches away.
Inside the cabin, I gripped my head with both hands, trying to steady myself through the searing pain. My vision swam. Even with my seatbelt on, the force of the collision had thrown my skull against the interior. Something warm and wet trickled from my scalp down my cheek. White smoke poured from under the crumpled hood.
The scene was carnage.
Cecil shoved open the truck door and jumped down, staring at me with a look of pure satisfaction.
"That's what you get for slapping me, Clarence."
"Gretchen told me to do it herself, by the way. Honestly, an old man like you should just get lost already."
"Haven't you figured it out yet? She loves me now."
I couldn't summon the strength to respond. In the distance, headlights swung around. Gretchen had turned the Ferrari back.
She stepped out in her tailored pencil skirt, long legs crossing the distance to Cecil's side.
Her gaze fell on me in the driver's seat, battered and bleeding. Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of something almost like pain, and she took an involuntary step toward me.
"Clarence, are you... are you okay?"
But then Cecil called out to her, his voice warm and familiar. "Gretchen."
The softness in her eyes froze over. She looked at me, and when she spoke again, her voice was cold.