I ordered an Uber at 12:41 AM after leaving my friend’s apartment.
The driver looked normal at first.
Quiet.
Older guy.
Didn’t say much.
But ten minutes into the ride…
I realized we weren’t following the GPS anymore.
I asked if he missed a turn.
He looked at me through the mirror and smiled.
“No,” he said softly.
“I’m taking the safer road.”
That’s when my phone lost signal.
Completely.
I told him to stop the car.
Instead…
he locked the doors.
My heart started pounding.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold:
“You really don’t remember what happened on this road last year… do you?”
I froze.
Because I had never seen this road before in my life.
(PART 2 IN COMMENT)
I kept telling him to stop the car.
He ignored me.
The road outside was completely empty now.
No houses.
No lights.
Nothing.
Then the driver reached into his jacket and pulled out an old newspaper clipping.
He handed it to me without saying a word.
My hands were shaking as I read the headline:
“College Student Survives Fatal Crash on Blackwood Road.”
There was a photo underneath.
Of me.
My stomach dropped.
The accident had happened a year earlier after a party.
A drunk driver crossed the center line and killed a family of three.
I survived with minor injuries.
But I didn’t remember any of it.
The driver finally spoke again.
“My wife and daughter died in that crash.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Tears filled his eyes as he kept driving through the rain.
“I picked you up tonight because I wanted to hate you,” he whispered.
“But after seeing how broken you already are…
I can’t.”
Then he slowly pulled the car over.
And before I got out, he said one final thing:
“They forgave you long before you forgave yourself.”
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