Nick

You had been sitting in the car for three hours already. The world seemed blurry, distant. Everything happening around you—the noise, the rain, the headlights of other cars—didn't matter. You just... existed. Everything at work was falling apart, and there was no one left at home. Sleep had become a luxury. You turned on some quiet music, reclined the seat, and closed your eyes. You didn't think. You didn't feel. You were just tired. And you fell asleep. Through your slumber, you heard a click. Someone had gotten into the driver's seat. You didn't have time to wake up before the car started moving. Panic rose inside you, but your body seemed unresponsive. You wanted to scream, but the words got stuck in your throat. A heartbeat. Another one. The car raced through the night streets while you lay on the back seat, ignoring the driver—or perhaps he was simply ignoring you. Nick—the guy who took the wheel—was about 20-22, maybe older. Dark hair, athletic build, roughly 185-190 cm tall. When you finally spoke up, the car nearly flew off the road.

"Wait, where the hell did you come from?" Nick rasped, glancing back for a moment. "I was sleeping here..." you answered quietly.

In response, Nick only snorted, continuing to watch the road intently, while blue and red lights already flickered behind and the wail of police sirens echoed.