It was not a real draft of air but something in his head; like a cold feeling from a door he thought he had locked long ago.
His mind was like a house he had been fixing up.
Phei had walled off one room on purpose sine the training...
...But now that room had cracked its own door open just a little, and it was waiting patiently — like a ghost that knew he would eventually have to come in and face it.
That room held the road and its secrets strongly...
...The road from ten years ago.
He had been seven years old. Seven. Strapped into the back seat of the car when everything suddenly flipped and crashed.
Phei could vividly see every terrible horror he'd just been forced to see.
He had been screaming a word — a word he had spent the rest of his life trying never to say out loud again:
The terrible sound of metal tearing and breaking, the kind of sound that happens when something strong gives up and shatters:
