High Hopes

"Are you sure you can ride me back?" he asked.
"Of course, I'm perfectly alright. And the roads are empty. It's 2am now," replied Shriek.
"Well you're obviously feeling something, I mean, how many did you have?" he inquired.
"9 shots or so. I'v done more and gone at 100kmph before."
"It's not only the liquor that has an affect you know. How many-"
"As many as you did," Shriek cut him off. "Why is that so bad?"
"I'm not the one driving."
He sat behind Shriek. It wasn't anything fancy that Shriek rode. He picked up speed quickly on the deserted streets. The engine roared, shouting out louder as Shriek switched gears. Faster and faster they went, and faster yet as he switched. Shriek had a helmet on, but he didn't. The wind whipped through his long hair, and he could see the shadow it threw on the streets, flying back and waving madly. He was feeling it, floating in space. The myriad colours of the street lights blurred and bounced. It was chilly in the night, and the cold wind bit through his t-shirt. That was even more exhilirating. He felt cold fingers reach up under his shirt, trying to lift him off. There were goose bumps on his skin. Slowly he raised his arms on either side, letting himself go. A scream of joy broke through his lips. Was that smoke coming out of his mouth? He screamed again, trying to clear out his lungs, and remove the stuff from them. Drops of liquid formed at the corner of his eyes, as the wind stung them. Bending forward, he looked into the speedometer.
"You're doing 60? It sounds like 120!" he screamed into Shriek's ear.
"Give me a better bike," Shriek yelled back. "Like that!"
A black motorbike pulled up at the signal next to them. Majestic and sleek, it made Shriek's look like a pony. Across it, in huge golden letters were written the words- Royal Enfield. It shot ahead like a bullet as the signal changed.
"Nice pick up," he said grinning.
"It's not just about pick up. It's about control," Shriek said, hot after it's trail.
They drew closer, winding through the occasional truck, just behind the Enfield. Everything was a blurry streak to him, he could see only the Enfield. The speedometer was alive, clocking well past 70.
They touched 80. He could feel his heart beating fast.
90. Blood pumped through his arteries, rushing to his head, carrying copious amounts of alcohol.
100. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Colours swirled around inside him.
110...120...He could feel the road beneath, as the wheels flew over tar. Every bump, every depression.
"Why is he stopp- FUCK! That's a speed breaker." Shriek's screech was barely a whisper to him. He felt the brakes being applied, and then the wheels skidding. They tilted to the right. WHAM Pain lanced up his groin...
And then they flew. He opened his eyes then, and the whole world had turned. Open sky was on his left, road on his right. For a moment things seemed content to stay like that. And then gravity took over.
The road sped towards them. Shriek fell off on the bounce, but he was still on. An insane grin broke across his face. The bike landed again, trapping a leg under it. Momentum carried it forwards, tearing across the ground, pulling him with it. The sickening sound of metal screaming filled his head, and sparks shot off from the bike. His body bounced uselessy behind like a rag doll, blood sprouting from various parts. His leg was shredded to bits, chunks of skin torn off by the rough road. Heat seared through him, debilitating. A hysterical laughter took him, even as he coughed up thick blood. A stone rushed towards his face, impaling his eye, and pulling it free. Pain, screaming, piercing pain wracked him. The flesh had been completely peeled off his leg and bone remained under, scraping against road. And then he was free, rolling across tarmac, as the bike kept going. His trapped leg had given, and all that remained was a bloody stump. Raw bone jutted out from it's end, covered in pus and blood. His body was torn everywhere, a hundred bloody smiles painted all over him. And all he could do was laugh and enjoy the experience.
"Here you go," announced Shriek.
They had stopped in front of his gate. He tried getting off, but there was a sharp, shooting pain through his leg. Suddenly he felt like he was on fire, and his body felt like it had been sliced in several places.
"Told you i would get you home," Shriek was saying, "safe and sou-" he paused, staring wide eyed. "Is that blood on your face? What's going on? Why are you grinning like that. You're friggin bleeding man!"
"It's nothing. Just enjoying the high!"