Clayton, looks at his phone still expecting a response. Was she asleep? No, she couldn't be. The mark seen on the side of his photo, proved him wrong. Did he do something wrong? The thought of messing everything up caused Clayton's stomach to curl up.
"You alright?" The man's attention was then grasped by the sauced-face-covered person sitting beside him. "You look like you're gonna die." Nathan gave a slight laugh as he spoke, but they both knew there was nothing funny.
"Yeah. It's just… Yaz." He could feel the other's body tensing up. For as long as they've known each other, Nathan was never the best with women. When people would try and get him to flirt with girls at their school, he'd always apologize and back out. For someone who seemed so confident, it just seemed so… wrong.
"Hey… don't worry! You and Her will be just fine." As he spoke, Clayton could hear the slightest twinge. Silence was the only thing that was left after that. An echo of doubt and uncertainty.
"Do you really believe that?" The detective could feel his hands shaking more and more. "Do you WANT us to be fine?" Obviously, his words were met back with rebuttal. Nathan continued to explain how could they "not be okay." They were going through something, something terrible. And after they realized they needed each other, everything will be fine.
In all honesty, those words didn't help him one bit. This wasn't some sort of fairy-tale. Time wasn't gonna solve anything. How could it? He needed to do something, something to show he loved her. Maybe he'd take her out after all this. The thought of him finally getting the chance to relax seemed like a dream. After a while of exchanged looks, Nathan maintained his standing after rubbing the back of his neck.
"Like I said before, you and Yasmine are strong. Plus you love each other. It'd be dumb for you to leave." He let out a sigh before cranking up the car. It seemed so long ago, but the memory still must be in his head.
"How's Charlene?" Under his guilt he still wanted to have a conversation. Under all his confusion he forgot. He forgot everything Nathan had lost. With his divorce being settled and the child custody being a bust. His life quickly turned from a happy home to a quiet one.
"She's fine… from the last time I saw her." Nate kept his eyes on the road as the car began to lunge forward. "How about you? How's your therapy going?" The question quickly caused a shock through Clayton's body. He forgot about telling him. About him taking therapy. He didn't say what for, just being late to staff meetings always posed a problem.
Did he see his question as rude? Is that why he asked about him? For the first while, Clayton didn't know what to say. It took a clear while to try and grasp any words that would make this situation okay.
"It's… fine." Not wanting to attract attention to his arm he quickly pulled the sleeve over more, just to be sure. Has he ever seen it? I mean, he could've. It's not like Clay always remembers to keep it hidden. There were times when Clayton had the thought to not care about it. To just walk around in T-shirts, but the thought of everyone facing molding in disgust always deterred him.
"We sho-" The feeling of fear and agony crossed both of their bodies as they realized what had happened. The sound of screaming and shrieking continue to make their way into the world as different cars piled upon each other. Clayton wanted to move. But the pain that surged through his legs was too much to handle. Still, he began to look around his area. He didn't know if he was looking for an escape, something to help, or anything. He just needed to look. Around him, several things lied around the man.
Firstly, Nathan. Even though he was covered with blood, his door was in a way better condition than the other. It was clear to see he wasn't dead, just knocked unconscious. His eyes looked as if they were ready to flutter open, but didn't.
"Nathan!" The man's voice shivered as he spoke. "Nathan wake the fuck up!" In the end, his voice was powerless. Accepting that he probably wasn't gonna wake up, Clayton began to reach over to grasp the driver's door handle.
Nothing.
No matter how hard Clayton tugged on the silver painted latch, it didn't budge. As people around the wreckage began to gasp and yell for help, he could feel his heart starting to pick up pace. The door was jammed, there was nothing he could do. Was someone coming? Would he die before an ambulance arrived? Still wanting to make sure he was truly stuck, he moved one of his burning legs to kick open the door. And the matter of fact, he was still stuck. His voice was coarse, but needed in a situation like this.
"Someone, someone get help." His voice cracked with every word he spoke. He didn't know if someone heard him, but his yelling was better than nothing. The detective looked around for anything else that might've been able to steer him from passing out, but everything looked the same to him. Dark, smokey and unclear. The crumpled up, crimson red envelope was the last thing the man saw before he closed his eyes for the last time.