The motorcycle is loud between his legs, but not loud enough to drown out his dark thoughts or drive away the images.
Buffy.
Bruised.
Crying.
Robe torn, on the floor, struggling beneath him.
Hating him.
He has to get away, get away from the horrific images, the memories he doesn't want, the truth he wants to ignore.
The nightmare his life has become.
The 'leaving Sunnydale' sign is ahead of him, and he guns the motor, speeds past it, leaves her behind.
Away, just away. Anywhere but here.
And maybe the farther he goes, the quicker the memories will fade.
But he's afraid he'll never be able to go far enough to forget completely.
End