Speeding through

I’m flying down this highway like the night don’t exist, headlights cutting through black glass air, engine humming like it’s the only thing keeping me together. Road feels too empty to be real. No cars behind, no cars ahead, just this endless stretch of dark swallowing itself over and over.

Streetlights blur past like broken halos, flickering like something’s trying to blink me out of existence. I swear I see figures at the edge of the road sometimes—standing still, too still, never moving when I get close. Just silhouettes that don’t reflect in anything. I tell myself it’s fatigue. I tell myself it’s speed.
I press harder anyway.
Speed climbs, engine drops into a low scream like it’s sinking instead of rising. The wheel feels lighter every mile, like the car is forgetting me. My grip stays tight, but it feels like I’m not the one steering anymore. Reflections in the windshield lag behind my movements, like I’m already delayed from myself.
And the figures keep coming.
Never in the middle. Always just off to the side, pacing without moving, like the highway is generating them. Sometimes one appears closer than before, almost inside the headlights, and my chest locks up like I missed something important.
But I don’t slow down.
The road starts repeating. Same bend, same sign, same cracked asphalt I swear I already passed. My mind fights it, calls it adrenaline, calls it fatigue, but the repetition feels too clean. Too intentional. Like the world forgot how to continue properly.
I laugh under my breath.
Then I see it.
A figure directly in front of me.
No motion, no warning, just standing in the lane like it’s waiting. I jerk the wheel hard, tires screaming, headlights ripping across empty space where it should’ve been—
Nothing.
No body.
No sound.
Just road.
Heart pounding, I still don’t stop. I tell myself I’m fine, that nothing’s real except control. But the speed climbs again anyway, like something agrees with a version of me I don’t understand.
The air feels thinner now.
Radio cuts in and out with static that almost sounds like breathing. I shut it off, but the silence is worse—like the sound was holding reality together.
Then everything starts feeling distant.
My hands look slightly off. The wheel feels too far away. The road doesn’t feel under me anymore, more like I’m hovering above it, watching myself drive.
And suddenly, the figures stop.
That’s what breaks me.
Because now there’s nothing on the road at all. No lights, no movement, no distortion. Just endless dark highway stretching forward like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
My speed is still rising.
But I can’t feel the car anymore.
I can’t feel anything except the thought forming too late in my chest, like a memory returning instead of leaving.
The last thing I see is the road not bending, not continuing—
just stopping.
And I finally understand.
I wasn’t chasing anything down this highway.
I was already gone, speeding through the last moment my mind could simulate till I died

Dark cinematic trap, 140 BPM, eerie pads, detuned synths, distant sirens, heavy 808s, silence drops, haunted highway amb