With agonizing slowness, I cut my seatbelt with my nail clippers. I’m forced to use my right hand since my left can’t grip the clippers. My shoulder howls at me to stop. To take a break. Tears gush down my face while I whimper in pain.
A lifetime goes by before I’m almost free. I turn my head towards Hadley again. Her slow breathing keeps pushing me when everything in me is insisting that I give up. I won’t give up on her. She needs me.
My blood blinds me as it spills into my eyes and down my face. I blink the blood away, and focus on my seatbelt. I exhale when I realize I’m done. Using my left hand, I tear the last few threads apart.
I’m free.
Moving quickly to my sister, I check her pulse. I need to make sure I’m not crazy and I wasn’t imagining her breathing this entire time.
Thump . . . Thump . . . Thump.
It’s there. Faint. But there. I’ll settle for faint over nothing.
“Hadley, open your eyes. Please. Open your eyes for me. We’re gonna be okay,” I plead with my unconscious sister.
I search for my phone on the ground. The rain has stopped and it’s gotten lighter outside so I can make out shapes on the floorboards.
“We were out there all night. Nobody noticed. My entire world was falling apart and everyone kept going about their lives. All it would have taken was one person! One person to see us and things could have been different.”
“You’re angry at the world because it kept spinning while your world stopped.”
Liv doesn’t say it like a question. She knows that’s how I feel. I’ve said it before during therapy, countless times. I answer her anyways.
“Yes.”
I now know how impossible it was for someone to see us that night. Our car veered off the hill and it was pouring. You had to have known that the accident happened to have seen us. The driver who hit us, Emily Hayes, could have gotten help, but she didn’t. Instead she drove home and died from internal bleeding. Her reckless driving killed my family. I hope she suffered unimaginable pain.
Finally, at sunrise, somebody, somehow, noticed our car and called the cops. He didn’t even stop long enough to see if anyone was inside. He drove away thinking he did a good deed.
I wish I could say that I’m thankful for that unknown man, but I can’t. Yes, he called the cops and that’s why they came to the scene. But I’ve always wondered “what if?” What if he got out and searched our car? Would things be different? Would Hadley still be alive?
“I’m gonna get us out of here. I promise,” I vow to my unconscious sister.
Spotting my cell phone on the floor, I reach down to grab it. Relief comes and just as quickly as it disappears. Dead!
I laugh at the absurdity. Everyone always reminds me to charge my phone in case of an emergency. I never do. I always forget to charge it until it’s dead. Now I need my phone because of an emergency and it’s dead. I can’t stop laughing even though it causes pain in my chest. I’m losing it.
The phone slips from my grasp when I hear Hadley sob.
“Had?” I ask timidly, afraid I’m losing my mind and I’m hearing things.
“Ads?”
Despite everything going on, that one word makes me smile.
“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get us out of here.”
She barely manages to nod. She is unrecognizable with blood and bruises covering her skin. She looks so tiny and afraid. I need to do something. I need to get us out of the car. I don’t know how I’m going to get us out since I still can’t feel one of my legs. My right leg has started throbbing, which is good. If I can feel it, then that means I should be able to move it soon.
I calculate ways to get us out of the car and to the road. I come up with nothing. I know from countless CPR classes that I shouldn’t move her in her condition without proper equipment. I will crawl to the road if I have to. Drawing a deep breath, I try to wiggle my right foot. I scream in pain when it cooperates. I lean over and kiss Hadley on the forehead.
“I love you. Be strong. I’m going to go get help.”
She doesn’t respond, not that I thought she would. She hasn’t made any other sound since she whimpered my name. The only way I know she is still alive is from her shallow breaths. I don’t have much time.
With all my strength, I crawl over the center console, dragging my left foot. I bite down on my tongue, trying not to yell. My voice is already raspy. I need to save it for when I reach the road.
Turning my head, I see my dad. I wish that I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t have the image of glass shards through his face forever imprinted in my mind. Needing to make sure that this is real, my dad is really gone, I touch the side of his neck.
This is real.
This is my life.
My dad is dead.
My mom is dead.
Hadley and I will die too if I don’t get us help.
As much as it kills me that I have to shimmy over my dead mom, I have no choice. It’s the only way out. I close my eyes as I do it. Every cell in my body begs me to stop. I can barely breathe through the pain, but I don’t give up. I can’t.
My hand grazes the door handle and I shout in relief when I tumble to the ground. I drag my body through the mud on my hands and knees. I let out the scream I’ve been holding in. It hurts. The pain is unbearable. I shut my eyes for a second when nausea hits. I try to take deep breaths through my nostrils, but I can’t suck in any oxygen. My chest is on fire.
I panic. This is it. I’m going to die on the wet ground before I have a chance to get help for Hadley. Each tiny breath feels like I have a truck on top of my chest, constricting my airway.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t open my eyes.
The pain is starting to drift away . . . like me.
I’m panting, I need air. I try to stand, but my legs won’t obey. I rock myself back and forth on the couch and struggle to suck in oxygen. I’m going to suffocate. Dizzy, I’m vaguely aware that Liv has crunched down in front of me. I breathe in time to her. It works. After a few more deep breaths mimicking Liv, I’m finally able to breathe on my own.
I’m walking towards the window before I realize that my legs are moving. I look out but I don’t see anything. My mind is elsewhere. All I see is rain and blinding lights. Something I shouldn’t be seeing since the sun is shining.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Why do you feel like you have to apologize?”
I know she is hinting at more. She knows that I’m not apologizing for my freak out even though I feel like I should be. I’m saying sorry for so much more.
“For everything.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says.