heart race

He drove me home like a bat out of hell. Sometimes he gets in this mood, and he drives so fast, weaving in and out of traffic, speeding up on cars ahead of us and getting sooooooooo close, then stopping quickly or dashing into the next lane, running stoplights just as they are about to turn green, or if no one that he can see is coming. Such an uncomfortable ride. So terrifying. He doesn't care if I ask him to slow down. He gets mad that I don't trust him. How can I trust when I see myself rushing toward something and my heart is racing, and I think we might crash and possibly die. My precious child is in her car seat behind me, and I imagine how it must feel to her with her seat leaning this way and that, her head being violently shifted. When he hears me draw in a tense breath or grab onto the handle tightly, when he sees me stiffen and push into the floor in front of me with my feet, he gets angry and he goes faster. He takes corners more recklessly. He makes the car skid and peel. He tears down our quiet neighborhood street, slamming to a stop in front of our house to let me out. I pick up the sleeping baby who is stirring to his pounding music. I know there is no point in asking him to turn it down, because in this mood he might just turn it up instead, and as I barely step out of the car with her, he tears off again, the door swinging shut by his momentum. Terror and trauma. This is not the first time. This is not the 12'th time. Not everyday, but usually every week. I said "how do you think this feels to her" nodding toward our little sleeping daughter. He said it doesn't matter because it is for me.