It was a warm night, Catherine and I were driving up the hills to my dad’s house, he was going to meet her for the first time.

Catherine never got her license; she was terrified of the road after her brother died in a car accident years ago. It was an understandable reason to be afraid.

I’ve offered to teach her, but she doesn’t want to be taught. She’s alright with taking public transportation or riding her bike.

Then I got the call. My dad’s house was broken into and the police were there investigating. They asked to me drive up as soon as possible. The pit in my stomach grew larger until I threw up all over my car. I got out, but couldn’t stop vomiting.

“Catherine, I need you to do something for me”

She knew what I was going to say next and she began to nod her head profusely.

“No way, I don’t know how. I’d just get us killed”

“Catherine, please, I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t drive right now”

She loved me so much, she got out of the passenger seat and into the driver’s seat that was currently covered in that day’s lunch.

She hit the gas and sped up the hill until we saw a flash. Whatever it was, we hit it. Worried, we got out of the car to check what it was. What I saw next is the reason Catherine doesn’t drive.

“Dad?”