The inside of the car was chaos. The dashboard lights flickered erratically, casting jittery reflections across the blood-smeared interior. The acrid scent of burnt rubber and gasoline lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and sweat. The mayor's face, usually flushed with pompous authority, was now slick and pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and indignation as he pressed a blood-stained handkerchief to his forehead.
"My god, Betty, are you trying to kill us?" he bellowed, his voice hoarse, thick with anger and pain.
Blood trickled from his wound, drawing harsh red lines down his face, and collected at his chin, only to drip onto his lap, staining his once-impeccable shirt. Betty, the driver, gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white against the grime-covered leather. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes fixed ahead, steely and unflinching even as the car rattled with every pothole. Her tone was ice-cold, her voice grating as she shot back at him.
"It's not like you know how to drive, so shut up and let me drive, ya prick." Her gaze didn't waver, face settling back into a rigid mask of stoic anger. The mayor spat another furious retort, but as he did, the sound faded, becoming muddied, as though filtered through water.
I blinked, confusion flaring into panic. The world was muting itself around me, closing in with a strange, muffled silence. I touched my ears, feeling warmth trickle from my ear canal, but my fingers came away crimson. Oh god. I couldn't hear anything.
"How far are we from the hospital?" My voice was brittle with fear, breaking the thick silence in the car. I looked over at Betty, but she only rolled her eyes, her expression set in frustrated indifference.
"A few miles," she muttered through gritted teeth. "We need to keep going for a few more minutes. But we'll get there."
I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding painfully. "I don't think we have a few minutes."
Betty glanced at me, her eyes flicking to my blood-streaked hand, her expression briefly softening into something close to concern before she shook it off.
" I can't hear anything." Mom's rapid breathing became inaudible to me.
"Good god," Janae whispered under her breath.
—---------------------------------------------------
Betty's grip tightened on the wheel as she pressed her foot down harder, forcing the battered car to lurch and shudder with each rut in the road. The headlights barely cut through the darkness, illuminating patches of gravel and rock that jolted the car with every mile. The engine groaned in protest, and the whole vehicle felt like it could give up at any second. But it moved, dragging us closer to the hospital—or so I hoped.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but guilt clawed its way up, tightening like a weight in my chest. The world outside was quiet, muffled, but inside my mind, voices echoed like haunting memories I couldn't silence.
I thought about our family, back when we were still whole. When I was younger, there were days we felt like a real family—maybe not always happy, but together. Those moments seemed scattered and far-off, barely more than fragments in a fog now. Avery hadn't even gotten the chance to meet her little sister. And my mom… my mom had become almost a stranger, her presence more vivid in death than it had ever been in life. I could feel every failure, every time I hadn't been there for the women in my life. The realization that I'd let them down crashed over me in waves, heavier and more relentless with every heartbeat.
Suddenly, I felt a soft touch on my leg. My eyes flew open, and I turned, half-expecting the impossible. My mother's hand was there, her fingers grazing my knee in a gesture she'd done a thousand times before. Her face was lit faintly by the dim overhead light, her features soft and comforting, her lips moving silently. I struggled to understand, my mind grasping at the image before me, my heart pounding with a desperate need to believe it was real.
"Oh, Mom…" My voice came out as a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the fragile illusion. I couldn't hear my own words clearly, but I could feel my lips move, could feel the thundering of my heartbeat. She leaned closer, her mouth forming words, her lips moving deliberately, almost theatrically, but no sound reached me.
"D… D-DA…DAD??" I stammered, my mind reeling as I tried to make sense of her silent plea.
Just then, a burst of light caught my eye—a flash from my pocket. Dad's photo blinked on the screen, his familiar face smiling back at me. He was calling us, his name bright and clear on the screen. The room inside the car grew colder and I began shivering instantly.