Veera heard the alarm go off as she was brushing her teeth. With the toothbrush still in her mouth, she lightly rushed to her bed, where she’d left her phone, and hit snooze. A slight smirk automatically appeared on her face. She checked the time: 4:30 am. She’d woken up half an hour ago. Remembering how, when she’d just started doing this, the alarm’s ringing had hit her head like a death knell, she felt proud at how far she’d come in just a couple of months. Feeling the spit increase in her mouth, she rushed back to the bathroom sink, spat out the mixture of spit and toothbrush, and washed her face.

Fifteen minutes later, she was ready. She’d worn tight leggings with green leg warmers over it, a white shirt tucked into the leggings, and a hoodie that fit just right over it. She put her phone into the hoodie’s zippable pocket, plugged her earphones in, and headed to the elevator. As it zoomed down, she looked at her reflection in the glass. Even though it was dark outside, the lamp lights of her apartment building had been turned off. No one would think of leaving their flats right now. The thought made her smirk again. Her sense of pride only increased.

She jogged from the elevator door to the main gate of her apartment complex. The guards had already opened the side door. They were used to her now. She waved at them as she passed through, with her volume turned down in case they’d say anything. They didn’t. As soon as she was out the gate, Veera started running as if her life depended on it. This was what she did it for: the elation of running. At this hour, no one was outside. Maybe a car now and then, but no one else.

What she liked was running in the middle of the street. It had taken a good couple of weeks to get used to running in the morning. The first time she’d done so, spite was the only thing keeping her going. She still remembered how her mother had poked her in the stomach and laughed at her. That in itself was bad enough, but then she’d said, you’re already 38 and kept poking. The very next day she’d woken up at 4, begrudgingly pushing herself out of bed and out of sleep, and started running.

The first time she’d done it, she’d stuck to pavements. Slowly, she came to realise that there wasn’t anyone outside. This made her braver. She then started running outside the pavement, on the edge of the street. Eventually, she’d found herself in the middle of the street, feeling a sense of freedom that had, sadly she realised, been alien to her. As exhilarating as that first time had been, the next morning, she chickened out, sticking close to the street’s edge. However, once tasted, freedom is intoxicating, and over the next couple of days, she found herself gravitating towards the middle of the street repeatedly. Now, it’d become common practice.

This morning was no different. She was running, full speed, down the middle of the street with the music on full blast. As she passed an alley, a car burst into the road she was running on and hit her so fast that she flew into the wall on her left side.

Vaibhav got out of the car, the tiny bottles of whiskey he’d been drinking all night spilling out from under his seat. He started cursing. What sort of dog was that? Stupid animals. Aren’t they supposed to have good hearing? He walked up to the front of his car to check the damage and saw a very large bump on his hood. A portion was redder than the rest. He placed his palm on it and then brought it closer to his face. His palm was red now too. What the hell? He heard a groan. Was it the dog? He turned to where his car was facing and a woman was laying down in front of a wall. He then realised.

Vaibhav looked around him. There was no one close by. Good. He crossed the street towards the woman. He put his fingers under her nose. She was still breathing. He could tell she was all kinds of messed up, and probably needed help so he carried her and walked back to his car. Opening the back door, he placed her, face up, positioning her straight. She continued to groan, sometimes even yelp in pain, as he tried to position her properly. After fidgeting with the belt for a while, Vaibhav realised he couldn’t quite make it work with her lying body, so he let it be. He returned to his driver’s seat, took a big swig of another tiny bottle of whiskey and kept driving.

Though Veera was sliding in and out of consciousness, she was lucid enough to realise she was in someone’s car. She’d been hit. She should’ve never run in the middle of the street. Her mom was right; she was an idiot. How kind of the man who hit her to take her to the hospital How kind. She blacked out.

Vaibhav fiddled with his carplay in the front seat as he tried to call someone. Where is the number? Oh, there it is. He pressed it, and a loud ringing reverberated through the car. After about nine rings, a voice answered: "Ugh, do you know what time it is?"

“Shut up,” Vaibhav replied. “Look, I’m in trouble. I hit someone. I need your help getting rid of the body.”

The voice stoically said, “Why do you have the body? Why didn’t you just leave it there where you hit it?”

“Well, she’s still alive.”

Okay, fine. Just bring it to my place, and I’ll take care of it.

Vaibhav reached across to the passenger seat and grabbed another bottle. He looked down to open the seal. Two hands flew out from the back and started choking him as he kept fiddling with the bottle. Immediately, he tried to pry them apart, but they’d dug right into his throat. Veera felt her nails dig into Vaibhav’s throat. She could feel something wet, but by this point she didn’t know if it was his blood or hers. All she knew was her face felt hot and her hands felt like hurting him.

Vaibhav felt like screaming but he couldn’t. He started violently shaking himself, but Veera’s nails would not budge at all. His legs, without even meaning to, slammed down the accelerator and the car sped. His hands, which should have been on the wheel, still kept trying to pry her hands out his throat. He’d even scratched her, and now it wasn’t possible to tell what blood was from the accident before or from him scratching her. The car zoomed through the empty streets until, finally, there was a dead end ahead. Neither saw it, though Vaibhav caught a glimpse right before they crashed.

In the morning, a crowd of people grouped around a demolished car and two bodies intertwined together. An ambulance arrived shortly after and dispersed the crowd. They had to use one stretcher for both bodies as the woman’s fingers couldn’t be removed from the man’s neck, even by force. They’d need to cut it out later at the hospital.

Shakya is a writer based in Kathmandu.