Stephanie's consciousness clawed its way through the murky haze of pain enveloping her. With every throb that surged through her battered form, she became acutely aware of the agony playing across her body. A tiny whimper escaped her lips, a feeble acknowledgment of the torment she endured. Her breath, a sharp intake laced with hurt, caused her lung to grate against the jagged edge of a broken rib.
Her eyelids, heavy as if weighed down by lead, fluttered open in defiance of the darkness that sought to reclaim her. The world was a blur, a swirl of indistinct shapes and shadows that refused to coalesce into coherence. Instinctively, her hands began their trembling journey over her body, patting down her clothing, and her skin, seeking the warm, wet tell-tale of blood. Each touch was ginger, tentative, as though fearing what they might find.
The air was thick with an unfamiliar heaviness, a scent that clawed at the back of Stephanie's throat and filled her nostrils with its metallic tang. Iron. It hung there, oppressive and unyielding, as her fingers came away from her body smeared with cold, splotched blood. Confusion knitted her brows together, her mind laboring to connect the dots, to make sense of the crimson that now stained her fingertips.
Lifting her trembling hands, Stephanie watched in horror as the blood coursing from them painted a grotesque picture on her pale skin. The sticky cold liqure slipped through her fingers, falling in heavy droplets to her chin. Her breath hitched, eyes wide and unseeing, yet fixed on the crimson that marked her as a survivor of something unspeakable. With an instinctive surge of denial, her bloody palm clamped over her mouth, muffling the scream clawing its way up her throat. It was a visceral, primal reaction, born from the fear that any sound could spell her end.
In the eerie silence that followed her stifled cry, Stephanie's gaze darted frantically around the car's interior. Each detail seemed to drag her deeper into the nightmarish recollections that now surged forward. There was a relentless replay of her brother's urgent grip on her arm, his desperate voice urging her to run. They had sprinted together, away from the chaos, away from the grey gargoyles that descended upon their group with a ferocity that defied nature. She remembered the screams—the kind of sounds that tore at the very fabric of one's soul—as those she had known were mercilessly torn apart.
The terror of those moments was crystallized in the final image of her mother, the woman whose love had enveloped her since birth. Stephanie's mind conjured the haunting vision of her mother's eyes—one second alight with life, the next vacant, a light extinguished by an unseen hand. It was this memory that held her captive, even as another sound intruded upon her trance.
Crunch.
The noise was jarringly out of place, a sinister reminder of the world outside the car continued despite the memories seeped deep in carnage. It was a sound akin to the snapping of a robust branch, a sound that promised fear and being hunted. That single, chilling crunch was what yanked Stephanie back from the edge of her memories, grounding her in the present—a present filled with danger, loss, and the undeniable necessity of survival.
With each tiny movement, pain radiated through Stephanie's body. She coaxed her head up, inch by agonizing inch, to peer through the car's jagged window. The scene outside was a still-life painting of horror: her brother George lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving asphalt, his once vibrant eyes now closed in eternal rest. Beside him crouched a creature pulled from nightmares, its grey skin stretching over scales and bone, a grotesque mockery of life.
As if sensing her gaze, the beast turned slightly, its jaws working methodically. It clamped down on George's arm—a limb that had once thrown her into the air with laughter, now reduced to mere sustenance for the monstrosity. A crisp, sickening snap echoed as teeth shattered his bone; Steph's eyes clenched shut reflexively, tears seeping through. Another snap fractured the silence, and she could almost feel the severance of her connection to the brother she had adored.
Survival's icy fingers clawed at Stephanie's heart, vying with the paralyzing grip of fear. She couldn't—wouldn't—end up as another discarded remnant of this creature's feast. With a trembling hand, she reached for salvation in the form of the car door's handle. Her touch was hesitant, her movements laden with dread. The plastic felt foreign under her blood-slick palms, but she forced her fingers to obey, to contract around the contour of the handle.
Drawing on reserves she didn't know she possessed, Stephanie coaxed the door open, the softest click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in her heightened state. Every nerve in her body screamed in protest, but she stifled the cries, knowing that the slightest sound could spell her death. Her breath hitched in her chest as she prepared to move, to flee from the monster that claimed her family in flesh and blood, all while praying the creature remained engrossed in its grisly meal.
Stephanie's limbs trembled as she suspended her breath at the slight creak of the car door. She prayed to a god she wasn't sure was listening that the abomination remained oblivious to her escape. Inch by arduous inch, she edged out of the shattered metal sanctuary that had been her reprieve from the nightmare outside.
The sharp sting of gravel biting into her palms was a welcome sensation—it meant she was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than the soul-crushing horror that threatened to consume her. Stephanie's fingers, slick with the blood of her injuries, grated against the rough asphalt, finding a grasp among the curves that littered the ground. With each pull of her battered body, she maneuvered herself under the sparse shelter offered by the space beneath the car's trunk.
Her mind screamed at her to flee faster, but her body could only comply in agonizing slowness. The grotesque symphony of bone being crushed was a perverse lullaby that kept the monster contentedly hummed. Stephanie forced herself not to look back, not to witness the desecration of George's body, her brother who had always been her protector, was now nothing more than a provider for the beast.
Tears spilled, carving clean tracks down her dirt-streaked face before mingling with the warm, coppery essence that painted her skin. Each drop that fell seemed to sear her flesh, a liquid reminder of her helplessness and the precious blood that had been spilled so senselessly. Despite the excruciating pain that lanced through her every time she dragged her bruised figure forward, Stephanie persisted, driven by an instinctual need to survive that dulled the edges of her grief.
The gravel beneath Stephanie's belly grated against her skin, each minuscule stone felt like a mountain against her wounded flesh. She drew in a shuddering breath her muscles protested, but she propelled herself onward, inch by torturous inch, from the dark underbelly of the car out onto the exposed expanse of the highway.
Slick with sweat and blood, her palms pressed down on the rough asphalt, pushing her body up just enough to cast a wary glance over her shoulder to the grim scene behind her shoes. Trembling with effort, her arms pressed against the ground, bringing her into a crouch. The world seemed to sway, the edges of her vision blurring as she fought against the lightheadedness that hungered to claim her consciousness. She steadied herself, drawing upon reserves of strength she hadn't known she possessed.
With a surge of determination, Stephanie extended her arms toward the concrete barrier that stood as a boundary at the road's edge. Her fingers, coated in grime and gore, scraped against the unforgiving cement. Each nail felt as if it were being pried from its finger, yet this pain was a small price for the chance of safety that lay beyond.
She anchored her hands onto the top of the slab, the cool surface compared to the heat radiating from her fevered brow. Pulling with what might left in her battered frame, she hauled her body upwards. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each a rasping note of survival.
Finally, as her torso crested the top of the barricade. With a final exertion, Stephanie tumbled over and crumpled onto the other side.
The woman's body was scrunched and exhausted as she leaned against the concrete railing, her face twisted in pain. Her shoes, once sturdy and comfortable, now felt like lead weights on her feet. With every step, her muscles screamed for rest, but she pushed on. Hours went by as she trudged along the highway, sweat pouring down her matted hair and the sun beating down relentlessly on her.
But despite the physical strain, a small smile tugged at her lips. She knew she would never tell anyone that she smiled on the day she lost her family as she peered up at a green sign that promised an exit to a town one mile away. As she looked away from the sign towards the cars resting on the asphalt, they seemed no bigger than toy Hot Wheels left behind by a child.