Because of Dawn and the thought of a car with revolving doors and ankle stirrups in front of the passenger seat!
Daniel sat quietly in the flattened recliner, small beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead. Occasionally facial muscles would twitch, contorting the skin to give the appearance of emotion passing through his thoughts. Which one? Well only Daniel knew that, but judging by the patterns maybe disgust, revulsion, either could have been close to the mark. Intense inner torment, that was the trigger. Images trapped within the cerebral cortex being flushed into the vacant space behind his eyes.

It was always eyes that haunted him.
Haunted being the operative word.
But then I suppose Daniel had brought that on himself.
The vision rated as X, or whatever the politically correct lettering is these days. Not suitable for those under the age of eighteen. Hell, even eighty really, though no doubt film producers would beg to differ. Such is the complexity of the human brain, it has the ability to store images, image sequences indefinitely. Accurate recall can occur at any time, whether or not it is either requested, warranted, or welcomed.
The eyes were midnight blue, cool yet not inviting, but no doubt I'll come back to that.
Separated by chest high metal railings Daniel held the woman tightly, his breathing fast, shallow. Excited, maybe? Of course from casual observation he had every right to feel arousal, strong emotion, the woman was naked, the night air cool around them. Darkness prevailed, a chilly cloak to mask their union. Only sex was not on the agenda and the woman was unaware just how cold the steel was against her breasts.
Up to this point Daniel was always more than a little apprehensive as if unsure what would happen next. If only. Come on what was there to chill the soul?
But then you no doubt may realise that apprehension suggests an understanding of the future. Quite so, as this was not live action, or even simple fiction but run biological VT [Video tape].
Daniel relaxed his grip, his hold on her body and as though in a simple faint her legs gave way beneath her, breaking the hold those eyes had over Daniel's soul.
So, Daniel had been eating garlic or he was drop dead gorgeous? Close. Only it wasn't exactly a suitable place to lose control of muscles, or balance.
Sound, that too is important to impart realism. What good is it if a friend creeps up behind you waving their arms, something is missing.
The night was quite silent, crisp clear air. Above, the dark sky speckled with stars and light hazy wisps of cloud made bright by the moon. Even though there was countryside all around, the night lacked any chatter of wildlife, owl or fox. As if they all knew what was going on! Only the light drone from the traffic on the Motorway beneath the bridge. By now you should be just about up to speed.
The lorry was, all thirty eight tons.
Completely relaxed the woman fell through space, about sixty, seventy metres. Not quite reaching rock bottom quickly enough. The vertical grill of the articulated tractor unit smashed into delicate tissue at about sixty five miles an hour, maybe a little more, after all the downhill slope had already taken the monster above its governed speed.
It's only natural to follow movement, unfortunately and Daniel had felt compelled to trace the fall. At the moment of impact there was an explosion of, I don't think I want to even think about that. Blood sprayed out in the form of a mist, liberally coating the windscreen, causing the stunned driver to lock the brakes. Which maybe wasn't such a good idea. What was no longer recognisable as human form fell onto the tarmac. Only instead of rolling over the woman and swiftly crushing her distorted torso, rubber smoked over the road, motionless wheels somehow trapped and started to spread it. The words knife and butter come into mind. Thankfully I cannot picture red butter in my mind. As the skin shredded, parts broke away, to be crushed by other wheels drawing out sideways as the trailer jack-knifed. After about fifty metres there was no longer enough of anything to cause a recognisable marker and the artwork stopped, not that the lorry did. It still had a little momentum to use up.
A solitary car, swerving to avoid a collision picked up pieces of human debris and added something immeasurable. Perhaps the driver had not realised the enormity of the situation, imagined that he, or worse she had driven had picked up the remains of a deer and hardly even slowed down.
Now that I've painted a picture you might understand the complexity of Daniel's emotions. All that data was stored, ready for reproduction as a Turner prize exhibit, only that would mean identification of the artist. The witness to such wanton destruction, terrible waste
One hell of a nightmare.
Only Daniel was awake, this was a little personal therapy.
Jesus, I don't ever want to be his psychiatrist.