Where can I go? How the fuck do I get out?!
Searching, I saw the rear windshield was broken, allowing plenty of room for me to crawl through. Using my nails, I started to drag myself towards the back of the car, but a fierce stabbing pain sliced through my body, causing me to stop.
Every time I moved my arms it hurt, every attempt to pull or crawl was hindered by such immense pain that I couldn't focus on anything else. I had never felt anything like it.
Am I dying? Is that what's happening to me?
I didn't want to think like that, I didn't want to imagine that this was where it would all end for me. Trapped in a car, slowly bleeding out, punctured and slashed in places I couldn't even see.
Getting out, running away, finding help and safety; it seemed impossible then, an intangible goal that I would never achieve. Hanging my head, the scent of burning rubber mixed with the musty smell of gasoline, and I knew it wouldn't be long before something sparked, and I was blown into the stratosphere.
Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I let my body relax. It didn't matter anymore what was about to happen; I wasn't getting out, not like this.
Closing my eyes, the urge to go to sleep became strong and powerful. No matter how much I tried to keep my eyes open, my lids were so heavy they kept drooping, as if tiny anchors were suspended from my lashes, making the choice for me.
Sleeping could be my saving grace. . .
If I was out cold, then I wouldn't see the flash when the car ignited, I wouldn't feel the few seconds of agony as my body split apart from itself, and coated the ground like fresh fertilizer.
I could die peacefully. I could die dreaming of the life I once had and didn't appreciate.
I could die and not know it.
All the sounds around me started to dull, fading into that void in your brain that appears right as sleep takes over. The buzzing, the cracks and snaps, it was all so quiet as my eyes lowered and unconsciousness was about to steal me away.
The sound of glass shattering pierced the air as strong hands wrapped around my upper arms. In one hard pull, my body broke free from the car, and fresh air filled my aching lungs.
Icy cold grass tickled my legs as I was dragged across the ground, further and further away from the wreckage. The night air was crisp and quiet, the dinging of the ignition morphed into nothing more than crickets chirping in the background.
“Let me look at you.” His voice forced my eyes wide open, and the urge to scramble away fluttered through my head. But there was no strength left in me, no amount of adrenaline was enough do to shit, not right then.
“I'm fine, don't touch me,” I barked, attempting to push myself up. “Ahh!” I yelled out, as excruciating jabs fanned over my body, hitting so deep my bones screamed. Clenching my ribs, my head fell back as I groaned.
“You're not fine, you're hurt.” Hard fingers dug into my shoulders, pushing me back to the ground. “Don't try to sit up yet, you might make it worse.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, the words were there, hanging on by a thread, only I had no power to voice it. The man was right, and I didn't have the energy to argue with him about it.
“Where does it hurt?”
“My chest, my chest hurts a lot.” Gently touching my sides, I applied a little pressure. “I feel like I can't breathe.”
“You might have a broken rib. Take slow even breaths, don't try to force it.” I felt his hands as they roamed my frame, touching and moving my legs and arms delicately. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“You expect me to believe you really give a shit?” Sighing, I laid my hands over my face and shut my eyes. “Don't try and act like a fucking nice guy.”
“You know I could have just walked away, but I didn't. You're the one who caused this, you and that little fucking stunt of yours. But, I'm still here, trying to figure out how bad you're hurt—tryingto help you.” The weight of his body shifted, causing his shadow to creep in over my face. “So how about we start this again. Does it hurt anywhere else?”
Drawing in air through my nose, I dropped my hands from my face and opened my eyes. He was looking down, serious and stern, with his hands resting on his thighs as he knelt beside me. His eyes flittered in the sockets, jaw crooking to the side as he waited for an answer.
We stared at each other, the silence between us thicker than water, tethering me to the ground like a weighted blanket. I felt compelled to speak, to tell him the truth the same as when we were in that alley.
“It hurts everywhere.”
“Alright, that's better. What hurts the most?”
“My chest.”
“Okay.” Pushing up off the ground, he started to turn and walk away.
