But neither was I, and I’m still in the car. Pieces of the memory break through the wall my mind quickly built.
She flew through the windshield when we crashed into the barrier. She wasn’t in the car with me when we hit the water. She hasn’t been here the whole time …
A burst of excitement hits me, giving me hope. That means she’s probably swimming in the water and getting to safety. Carly will be okay. I know it.
Right?
Wetness streams down my forehead, falling into my eyes. I attempt to blink it away, but it doesn’t help, only clouding my vision more. Reaching up to my scalp, I try to feel for the tender, painful gash, but it doesn’t sting. Neither does the aching pulse in my ribs.
Nothing hurts anymore. Everything’s gone numb.
My body floats up off my seat, lifting me toward the roof of my car as my vision spots out and my strength begins flickering away.
Just get out of the car.
Grabbing the edge of the window, I take a deep inhale before pulling myself down to try to swim through the opening. Keeping my eyes open, I slither halfway through before something inside of me powers down. I don’t make it throughthe window, not before my vision fades to black and the car pulls me deeper into the cold depths below.
A loud beeping fills my ears, and they start to ring as I come to. Gradually, my consciousness becomes more aware, and I hear a voice.
“I’ll get the doctor,” someone mutters nearby, but I can’t make sense of who it is.
Doctor? Where am I? What happened?
It takes everything in me to try to force my eyes to open. A millimeter of light trickles in, and I slam them shut.
God, it’s so bright.
“Jensen, I’m right here.” I recognize the voice, but it takes me a moment to put a face to it. Dark brown hair, brown eyes just like mine, and a soft smile. It’s my mom. “Can you open your eyes?”
“No.” My thought slips past my lips, jagged and raw in my dry throat.
She inhales sharply, her breath catching before she cries out, “Oh, thank God you’re okay.” She bursts into tears as I try once again to open my eyes to comfort her.
Why is she so sad? I’m fine.
It hurts, but I slowly open them, taking a second to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights. It’s blinding at first, but the ache fades away after a moment. But new pain takes Its place as my body awakens, soreness throbbing everywhere.
My mom’s holding my hand, cradling it so gently as she rests her forehead on my fingers, shaking softly with sobs.
She’s not the only person here.
My best friend, Luca; his sister, Lainey; and their mother are standing behind my mom, all smiling from ear to ear yet sorrow darkens their eyes.
“W—” I try to speak, but my voice is too dry.
My mom sits up, wipes her eyes, grabs a water cup from the tray connected to the hospital bed, and helps me take a sip. The first swallow hurts a little, but I quickly down the rest of the cup, enjoying every drop.
“What happened?”
Her lips quiver, and her nostrils flare, panic widening her gaze. “You don’t remember …anything?”
Glancing away, my gaze rises to the TV as I try hard to recall what happened before I woke up. But the last thing I remember is … being at school.
A commercial is playing on the TV. A golden retriever runs through a yard as two adults chase after him. The dog races across a dock and leaps, jumping as far out as he can, straight into thewater …
An image flashes before my eyes, and my blood runs cold, the air freezing in my lungs. Suddenly, everything slams into me like a freight train.
The car crash.
