Is it suppose to be like this?

Her hands gripped the steering wheel with a tenacity, a certain passion, that was unnatural. Cool summer rain misted the windshield, before being swept away casually into oblivion by wiper blades. The road was blurred, squiggled in a frenzy of liquid smears, not by the rain. The world had warped into an obscene casualty of awkward colors and shapes; it was if the entire world had changed in one blink of an eye, drowning in its own intimate perception.
         A tear trickled down her skin, gently cupping flesh with a forlorn grace. Her eyes were clear and bright, rimmed softly with her shame, cheeks flushed like strawberries. The tear glided down the course of her neck, slipping into the conclave between her breasts, before staining cotton and lace.
         Sam relaxed her grip in a moment of realization. Then her mind drifted, grip tightening again.
         She watched the road without seeing, knowing only the pain writhing inside her beating heart and feeling the echoes of that pulse shudder in her brain. On and on the thumping, the pounding repetition of her organs feeding blood and oxygen to her body. Her mind was numbing to the incessant noise, forgetting its existence until some memory drug itself up. Then the tears would come, along with the physical facilities that knowledge sometimes erected in the soul. Sam would feel her heart, the intangible one that existed only in a figment of the mind, and know of its tired breaking, the pieces falling asunder so carelessly, easily. Sam would feel her heart break-- then the real vessel heating and boiling in defiance.
         Sam choked back her tears, angrily. She ran fingers through the straits of her dark hair, the other hand clenching the wheel devoutly, a pious obsession.
         The rain dissipated into nothing, a scenery of charcoal industrial streets flickering away into the deep greens of wood. Sam halted the wipers’ monotonous sweeps, the world still fuzzy and twisted at the edges. Her foot melded to the pedal, the small needle climbed further along its dais, climbing faster. The road narrowed and curved, each turn more precarious than the last. Sam knew this road though, knew it well.
         Her speed did not falter.
         Pulse reverberating in her skull, Sam could feel the tension building, feel it rising like some sexual extreme. The fear and pain, all squashed together, penetrated the atmosphere and made it sick with an awful ecstasy. The climax was coming, coming, coming…
         Her tears were gone now, replaced with a potent vigil, eyes keen on the road and sky and on the presence she knew was almost here. The pedal was pressed against the vehicle floor, the car a turn away from flipping from earth and pavement. Eyes practiced for a split second to the heavens, she saw only a shadow sweep across her line of sight. That was enough.
         Metal screeches ripped into her eardrums, horror clawing into the roof of the car. Sam’s foot reared itself onto the brakes, grip like iron fixed onto the steering wheel. Screams of alloy pierced the sound barrier, huge wracking tears in the vehicle’s roof the pleads of a dying animal. For one horrifying moment, caught in a swoon amidst the cacophony, Sam felt her body freeze and hollow and knew she was going to die in that position, face fixed on an indistinguishable point forever.
         And then her eyes lurched up to the figure above, ragged seams in the metal enough to see him with, enough to know what her killer looked like.
         The car bucked and split itself from the ground, hurled from the road into a maw of tree and brush. Sam could feel the pressure and momentum as vehicle tumbled through air, but she trained her gaze for only the man above, so he may see her dying accusation. The car pivoted into a tree, sliced in half by the force, Sam reeling with the front half to descend into a mass of young saplings.
         She was aware of the dark, knew she had faded from the world…
         Then a hollow gasp, shuddering, blood spewing from a ruined throat, Sam’s eyes fell upon the monster that clasped her. Those eyes, black and empty and penetrating stared down at her.
         She tried to breathe, and found she had no lungs for such a function. Her vocal chords were gone too, a degenerate hiss slipping through parted lips. Then the creature opened its wings to her, and she prayed that she could scream, finding hollows of air and no way to speak at all.
         Before she had slipped away forever, she was sure she’d found a way to scream anyway.