Seat belt. Of course. Straps meant for protection. Meant to save, not to hurt. The whole purpose behind them was to keep someone from dying. Why fear something like that? It was ridiculous. Purely and utterly ridiculous. Rosemary tentatively looked over at Caleb and the seat belt that was currently locked in place, holding his body securely to the seat. He was telling her she had to. Cops, he mentioned. He didn't want them pulling him over and for good reason if he kept his shiny sharp things in his truck. But still her mouth opened, as if to protest. She didn't. Only breathing was allowed. Extremely quiet breathing. So her lips snapped together, being as quiet as she possibly could.
Her head turned to the right and looked up to the seat belt hook. Having never used one before and failing to watch how Caleb had done it, she had to rely on some vague old memory. She reached up and pulled. It came easily and she pulled more until the old belt could be pulled all the way across her and down into the metal latch hidden in her seat. So easy that a child could do it. Just like that, she was buckled in and ready to go.
Ready to drive on into the mouth of death.
What was it that Caleb had said earlier? She'd have a better chance of surviving than him? Surviving what? A crash? How likely was that? And what were her real chances? A possible good chance meant that there was a possible bad chance. What if they did crash? Rosemary stared at the window, her eyes widening to larger-than-life proportions. Having to be in a moving car, driving down roads and streets unknown to her, was frightening enough. The chance of crashing into something made her stomach absolutely sick with dread and it was all she could do to not make a break for it.
But it was her own stubborn fault. She had wanted to prove herself. Well, this was her chance. What better way to prove that she could be trusted, that she could listen? Being obedient meant sucking it up and making a go for it. It wouldn't be so bad, maybe. Surely Caleb had been driving for years now and he hadn't crashed at any point or else he would have told her. Wouldn't he have?
The car was turned on and they were moving onto the street before she knew it. The temptation to close her eyes and wait for it to be all over sky-rocketed but let it be noted that Rosemary Prince was no coward. Those blue eyes stayed open, determined to only blink when absolutely necessary. Thankfully, all those staring contests with Royce were paying off. Her hands sought comfort in her lap, pulling and tearing the hem apart of her new work shirt but at least they weren't pulling apart his seat.
When they came to their first stop, the small lurch forward felt like she was being shoved off a cliff (perhaps an exaggeration). Through her teeth came the sound of a whine though she'd deny it fervently if asked. Her hands went from her shirt to the seat belt across her chest, holding onto it now as if it were the only thing keeping her alive.