He kept running. He didn’t want to turn around and face it. He didn’t want to own up to what he had just done. That she was gone and it was entirely his fault. He blinked back tears he was 23 he was a man. He couldn’t cry. So he kept running as far away from the car as possible. He would start over. Never tell his parents what happened, he wouldn’t even call his brother. He ran for an hour before the pain in his side was too much to bear. Not even the harsh drills of his college basketball coach could have prepared him for this. He slowed down and walked. He could still taste the blood is his mouth, the warm metallic taste. He wished everything around him could melt away. He closed his eyes and there was a flash of light and all the sudden he saw the car coming towards them again and it was like he was reliving it. Her high pitched scream the way everything turned black. The fact that he had left most of the money in the back of the car, and that he had to leave her body there. She had died on impact. The crash was too much for her to handle; she was a small girl anyway, 5’4 and only 115 pounds. He found a pay phone at a bus stop, he put in a quarter. Click. He called her parents; he knew her house number by heart. Luckily they didn’t pick up, so he left a message.
“You can find her on route 73 off Montauk highway,” was all he said. He then decided he would walk to the nearest town and book a plane ticket to somewhere in Europe, like they had planned to do. He would continue their plan without her.

He yawned, and stretched. The sun burned his eyes; he didn’t want to open them. It was too early to wake up on a Saturday. His head was pounding, probably from everything he had to drink the night before. He rolled over to see she was right next to him, just as it had been before he drifted off to sleep hours ago. Her breath was warm on the back of his neck, it smelt just like his, the stench of alcohol and McDonalds. He rolled out of bed and showered, the water stung his fragile skin. When he was done with his shower she was finally awake. He kissed her forehead.

“Morning, Love,” she said.

“Today’s the day,” And he smiled. They had been planning this for months now. She had an internship at the bank, and she already stole the combinations to the safes. All they had to do today was have her go to the security room and talk to Edward, the security guard. And convince him to go to the cafeteria because something was wrong. Then they would turn off all the cameras by the vault, and she would grab as much money as she could. After they would go someplace far away, she wanted to go to Europe of course. And they would make a life and a family together.

COMMA SPLICE: He sat in the car and waited, she had been in the bank for longer than they had planned, twenty-eight minutes and forty-six seconds longer. He was panicking. Biting at his nails until all of them were bleeding. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was getting thinner and the walls were closing in around him. What if it didn’t go as planned? What if she got caught? What if the combinations had been wrong? Everything was at risk and he was hyperventilating in his moms old 1997 Honda. He stares at the door, harder and harder. Maybe his eyes could make it open. He heard he squeak of the door; he panicked. The door opens, and he turns away. There was a heavy patter of her heels on the sidewalk. He looked up and she’s taping the window. He opened the door; she slid in next to him.

“Drive,” she said her voice tight and tense. He drove as fast as he could. After minutes of silence and the simply rumble of the car, she unbuttoned her jacket. Money spilled everywhere. He smiled, and they both started laughing. She opened her purse and more green paper spilled out.

“Alright, what are we supposed to do with all of this?!” He was ecstatic. His grin stretched from cheek to cheek. She laughed, and took off her jacket. Then slowly she pulled money from inside her blouse, it was never ending. She took out bundles of money, one at a time. It seemed like it would go on forever. They stopped driving after they were a few miles from the bank and put all the money in the trunk. Their arms filled with it, taking multiple trips. They laughed together; the sound of their cackling could be heard for what felt like miles. But no one was around; the emptiness felt like it would go on forever; like they were the only ones around. This is how things should always be he thought.

The car was hot; they had been driving for a while now. He could taste his sweat in his mouth, warm and salty. The music was loud enough to drown out the hum of their old car. He always hated this car. He would buy a new one with all the money. He smiled. He couldn’t help but be proud of what he had done. But she was tense, and he didn’t know why. What could be wrong he thought; everything was going as planned? And then he heard it, the faint siren, slowly coming closer. He stopped breathing. This would be the end he decided, his life was over he would go to jail. He started sweating; the walls were closing in again. Everything was getting blurry. He started shaking uncontrollably. But she was fine, calm cold. Her face was expressionless. He started yelling meaningless words; he didn’t know what to do. A string of swear words turned into a slur of unrecognizable sounds.

“Calm the f*** down!” It was the first time she had ever spoken to him like that, he was taken aback. He felt vulnerable. “Drive faster and make a right up her on Route 73.” He opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to say. He drove faster. His grip tightening around the wheel, he was angry now. She couldn’t talk to him like that; no one could. He couldn’t stop it the adrenaline rushing threw his veins. He clenched his fist, and hit her as hard as he could. He was angry, he drove faster. She was silent. She saw the other car coming before he did. But once he saw it, he smiled. Turning the car just enough to the right; just enough for the car to be the last thing she saw.