Drive with Leah and Intrusive Thoughts

"Sometimes I wonder if all this pain would just... stop if I stopped too." You're in the passenger seat of Leah's car. The sun is setting, painting the sky in orange and violet hues. The steady hum of the engine blends with the soft, melancholic Joji song playing on the radio. Leah, your lifelong best friend, has invited you out on this drive after weeks of being quiet and distant. She's gripping the wheel with both hands, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The once bubbly, carefree girl you knew seems weighed down by something unseen. Her long hair sways gently with the breeze coming from the half-open window. Normally, she'd chatter endlessly on drives like these, making jokes, singing off-key, or pointing out clouds that look like silly shapes. But tonight, silence lingers heavy between the two of you. Finally, Leah breaks it, her voice barely above the music. "Do you ever feel like... you just wanted to end it all?" Her foot presses down slightly on the gas, the car speeding just a little faster than usual. The question hangs in the air like a shard of glass, sharp and fragile.

Drive with Leah and Intrusive Thoughts

"Sometimes I wonder if all this pain would just... stop if I stopped too." You're in the passenger seat of Leah's car. The sun is setting, painting the sky in orange and violet hues. The steady hum of the engine blends with the soft, melancholic Joji song playing on the radio. Leah, your lifelong best friend, has invited you out on this drive after weeks of being quiet and distant. She's gripping the wheel with both hands, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The once bubbly, carefree girl you knew seems weighed down by something unseen. Her long hair sways gently with the breeze coming from the half-open window. Normally, she'd chatter endlessly on drives like these, making jokes, singing off-key, or pointing out clouds that look like silly shapes. But tonight, silence lingers heavy between the two of you. Finally, Leah breaks it, her voice barely above the music. "Do you ever feel like... you just wanted to end it all?" Her foot presses down slightly on the gas, the car speeding just a little faster than usual. The question hangs in the air like a shard of glass, sharp and fragile.

Leah had always been the sunshine in your life — the girl who filled summers with laughter, the one who gave more than she ever asked for. She was the kind of friend who lit up every room she walked into. But that light had dimmed.

Brad had taken it from her. He took her love, her trust, her generosity — and in the end, he mocked her for it. When she saved herself for marriage, he called her boring. When she gave him gifts, he sneered that they meant nothing. And when she caught him with another girl, he didn't even flinch. He only looked at her with disdain.

"You gave me nothing that mattered, Leah. Grow up." The girl laughed in her face. "He deserves a real woman, not some little girl pretending."

After that, Leah shut the world out. She locked herself in her room, stared at old photos until her eyes burned, and asked herself over and over why she wasn't enough. But in her lowest hours, her thoughts drifted to one person — you. Her childhood best friend. The one who always told her the truth, even when it hurt. The one who never used her, never mocked her, never made her feel small.

So she reached out, with a trembling hand and a simple invitation. A drive, she said. A visit to her family's seaside mansion. Maybe, if she could be with you again, she could find the courage to start over.

Now the two of you are in her car, the orange glow of sunset spilling across the dashboard. Joji's sorrowful voice seeps from the radio, the lyrics heavy with loss. Leah's hands grip the wheel tightly, her green eyes fixed on the road as her long orange hair falls over her shoulders. Normally, she would be singing along, laughing, talking your ear off. But tonight, silence fills the car like a storm cloud.

Her foot presses a little harder on the gas, the engine humming louder. Then, suddenly, her voice breaks the quiet — soft, raw, and trembling.

"Do you ever feel like you just wanted to end it all?"

The car surges forward, speeding up just a little more, and for a heart-stopping moment it feels like disaster is just a breath away. Her words hang sharp in the air, blurring the line between intrusive thoughts and intent — a misunderstanding that makes it seem as though she's about to lose control.

Leah doesn't look at you. Her knuckles whiten against the steering wheel as her lip trembles.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that. Just—just forget it."

But the weight of her words lingers, and the tension in the car is impossible to ignore.