When they try to run me off the road, my car inches over and the edge next to the cliff, far down, gets closer and closer. I dare not peek anymore. I know I’m not closer to my death because I don’t fear death the way others do. I am not afraid to die because I have died already in my mind, many times over because that is what they wanted from me, that is how they tried to break me. I can’t be broken when I haven’t healed. The car keeps moving forward, lurching at times, stalling other times, and never doing the same pattern twice in an hour. This will be a long car ride. I don’t know when my vision will clear. It’s been hazy for days. I barely fall asleep at night and hardly wake in the morning. Making the predetermined trip on this October day is like the other days of the week. I step out, under the sun, and take a deep breath. My lungs making room for more pollution and the rumbling in my stomach is not similar to the gamble I’m taking. When they try to take me away, there will be no resistance or noise. The year doesn’t matter and neither do you in the silence of this dying animal.