Tessy stayed on the bed, her thoughts tangled in the chaos of that morning. The images wouldn't leave her—the screech of tires, the gunshot, the driver's lifeless body slumping forward. She didn't know who those people were or why they'd come after her, but the driver had been innocent. Just a man trying to make a living. Why did they have to kill him?
The guilt gnawed at her, growing heavier with every passing second. If she hadn't booked that ride, that man would still be alive. It was her fault he'd been caught up in this mess, her fault he'd died. The weight of it pressed down on her chest until tears spilled over, hot and silent. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, but they kept coming, relentless.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts, but she didn't respond. She just sat there, staring at the door with empty eyes, too numb to care. The knock came again, louder this time.
