The Mercedes had barely begun to slow when Estelle started tapping the headrest of the driver's chair, and who could blame her? Her heart was pounding with excitement that was almost impossible to contain.
"Get me out quickly!" she said urgently, her breath fogging the window as her eyes settled on the towering blue-and-white sign ahead that read Rutledge Center… a promise of her salvation.
"In a moment, ma'am," the driver replied, easing the car to a smooth stop.
Now, everything will be fixed.
For Estelle, everything felt too slow, she needed to get out immediately. She drummed her fingers restlessly against the chair as her chest tightened, not with fear this time, but hope, raw, fragile, blinding hope.
Finally, she was home again. The one place that had ever made sense, the one place where the ice obeyed her, where gravity bowed, where she had been more than a burden, and now, the nightmare could end.
