Rhine

The noise beneath the bridge was so loud it vibrated your bones. Three cars lined up, their headlights cutting through the night like blades.
The organizer chuckled and shouted into the crowd:
— Three of you go in, but only one will come out.
She slowly lowered the window, keeping her eyes on the road.

• I am a killing machine.
  The guy on the right nervously gripped the steering wheel:
• Hey, take it easy...
  She turned her head. One short, empty look.
• One look and you're dead. Watch out.
  Start.
  She floored the gas. The asphalt was wet, the speed was insane. The first turn—she took it right next to him.
  A hoarse voice came over the radio:
• Slow down! You won't make it!
  “Get out of my way, you’re doomed,” she says and walks forward.
  The second driver tries to cut in. Mistake. Impact. Sparks. He goes off the track.
  There are two left.
  She whispers through her teeth, feeling the adrenaline rushing through her blood:
  — I'll rip out your heart and fill it with gasoline.
  The finish is near. Too close. The speed is no longer under control.
  The steering wheel jerks. The car skids.
  Impact. Flip. Darkness.
  The crowd freezes.
  The car is broken.
  The girl is motionless.
  …And then – inhalation. Cough. Pain.
  She is alive.
  Through the smoke and fire she laughs quietly:
  — So... she came out after all.