Close to Home (PG-13 for Language)

"Hey babe, it's Charlie. I'm just getting on the freeway, heading home. It's been a hellish day. Todd is gonna have my head for messing up this job. These hospital plans keep setting us back. If I have one more bad thing happen to me today I'm gonna kill someone! Sorry. I know I shouldn't get so worked up about things I can't truly control. I'm just exhausted and ready for some of your good cooking. Call me back when you get a minute. I'll pick up our little munchkin from the 'sitter? Love ya."
Moments after he sets the cell down, it rings.
"Hey! Sorry Todd, I thought you were my wife calling back. No. He never made that request. Well not to me. Why didn't anyone let me know? I'm running these plans to their office now. Are you kidding me? Another draft? Well I know that it's my job. I'm not saying that. Whatever. We'll do it again. Thanks for your call Todd. Talk to you later."
A shrill honk yanks Charlie from his inner-dialogue. He glances up at his rear view mirror only to see the ominous grill and flashing headlights of a monstrous truck tailgating him. He speeds up a bit, then taps his brakes. His attempt at sending the "get off my ass" signal only made the driver more infuriated as he pulled along side to show one of his own one-fingered signals.
Charlie rolls down the passenger window, returning the gesture.
"Get off your phone asshole!" is the final message Charlie hears as the truck races down the road ahead of them.
It's as if a switch turned on in Charlie's head that made him keenly aware of all the bad driving habits of every other driver on the road. Each second on this pavement escalates his blood pressure and stress level. He can feel a literal swelling of the vein in his forehead, pulsating as if keeping tally marks of every offense in his view. A comment here. A gesture there. He speeds up, changes lanes to get ahead of all the "stupid drivers" in his path, leaving their inadequacies in his wake.
"Move your slow ass outta my way! Brake Lights? Of course, had to be a chick. This is no longer a place for bimbo drivers. If I had a AK-47 I'd mow your micro-machine right off my runway. Come on! You've gotta be shitting me lady. You're not even going 55. That's illegal in my town. Ooh, so now all you clowns wanna keep boxing me in? We'll see about that!"
"Holy shit what have I done? How did it go this far? Wonder if they're alright? Maybe I should just get outta here? Or, maybe I'll call the police for them, turn myself in? Idiot, dude you are such an idiot!"
Charlie inches his vehicle backward, switching from rationalizations to self-loathing curses as he anticipates the state of the victims of his rage. Finally alongside the shredded vehicle, he steps out of his vehicle. Heavy black lines mark the path this now twisted metal took as it exited the flat plane of solid earth for sky, earth to sky, then earth for at least another hundred feet. The heavy smell of burning rubber and molten metal permeate the air. A battered woman emerges from the passenger door, now atop the car. She calls to the other woman in the car, reaching down into the wreckage to assist the driver to freedom.
Shocked to see both victims alive and well-enough to walk, Charlie hesitantly shuffles over to the two women.
"Are the two of you alright? I can't believe your car flipped that many times and you're alive to tell the tale. You're both so luck to be... Sharon? Oh my God, Sharon are you alright? Honey, you were inside that car? I can't believe I almost killed you. I couldn't get a hold of you, then some jerk cut me off and a million other people kept pushing that button that led me to nearly murder my own wife... Oh I'm so glad you're alright babe. Let's get you to a hospital, County General is not more than a mile or two up the road. I could take you both there and then get things sorted out here."
"You're an asshole, Chuck! You almost did it this time, pal." Sharon scolded. "You let things push you to the point of no return so easily, without even thinking about who these people are and what they're going through. What would our little girl have done if we were both in this accident, huh? Left alone because of your pride and impatience? Sit over there and wait for the cops to come take you away. We're finished!"
Without a word Charles sat between the vehicles as more vehicles arrived to assist. No one spoke to him, so his thoughts replayed his trip over and over. What had once seemed never-ending, now took fractions of a second to review. He couldn't figure out what to do to escape this nightmare.
"Charles Olcott? You need to come sit in my patrol car. You've got a lot of explaining to do."