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Fiction
Last Updated: 08/08/2006 14:47:04
End Of The Line (1/2)
By Nick Quantrill
(1/2), (2/2).
This is how it happened...
I was driving down Lowgate. There's got to be a better way than this, I thought to myself. But then I saw her, clinging to a lamppost, holding her hand out as her friend tried to stop her from falling over. I indicated and pulled over; she would do nicely. Her friend bundled her into my car.

No respect for anything, least of all herself, I thought as she banged her head on the far window and collapsed on the upholstery.
I waited a few moments. She slowly straightened herself up and covered her mouth with a hand, like she was going to be sick all over my car.

'Where do you want to go, love?' I asked.
She said something, though I'm not sure what it was. I turned around. She repeated herself.
'Aye. No problem,' I replied.

It was going to be like the last one. I checked my mirror and pulled back out into the battle zone. Hull city centre just after the clubs start to kick out is a nightmare; a dystopian nightmare of noise and neon lights as the kids go crazy.
There's nothing off limits as they scream and shout their way down its streets, discarding take away food as easily it arrived in their hands, pissing in doorways and occasionally it all ends with casual violence. If this is the local council's idea of the city centre at night, I'll be doing my best to stay as far away as possible in the future.
I was heading to the west of the city, some address off Spring Bank West. As I started to leave the city centre behind, it became much more peaceful. The roads were practically empty, only taxis and the occasional police car remained. This is when I love to drive.

Roads that you usually just crawl along in second gear during the day become more of a thrill when you can just put your foot down. I didn't care as the speed camera laughed at me with its dazzle of light that indicated that it had put one over me. I glanced in my mirror.
She was perfect, just how I like them. She was lying there, essentially comatose. She had long blond hair that fell over her face and into her cleavage. Probably not even seventeen, but what publican is going to turn away custom in a city centre saturated with pubs and clubs? If he doesn't serve her, he knows full well that somebody else will.

I looked again in the rear-view mirror. She was a disgrace, getting that drunk that she didn't even know who or where she was anymore. Her head's just lolled forwards. Still, it makes it all the easier for me. I looked again in the rear-view mirror. Oh yes, she was just how I liked them. I felt myself becoming aroused.

Continued... Next Page (2/2)

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