The journey was quiet, interrupted only by the soft purr of the vehicle's engine. Andrew's jaw was tight, and his hands were firmly clutching the steering wheel. I sat rigidly in the passenger seat, gripping my bag as if it were a lifeline. Every nerve in my body was on alert, and I didn’t have to see him to realize he was struggling to keep the tempest within at bay.
We were on our way to an undisclosed place, referred to by him as a “safe house,” yet he had been annoyingly unclear regarding what or who we needed protection from. My mind raced with thoughts, each increasingly burdensome until the heaviness of silence grew intolerable.
"Will you inform me of our destination, or do you simply expect me to doze off and awaken upon arrival?"
His knuckles turned pale on the steering wheel, yet he didn’t look at me. "You'll be aware when we get there."
"That's not a response, Andrew."