Page 91 of Burning Embers
Clouds loom and swirl overhead with anger.
But then they’re replaced with eyes I recognise—clouded with fear.Rachel.
All too soon, she disappears, and darkness follows. She's frantic—I can hear her calling out mine and Molly's name. I want to tell her Molly is okay, but I can't—I'm suffocated by ice-cold darkness.
RACHEL
Struggling to breathe through the panic engulfing me, I throw myself to the cold hard ground.
Olly has Molly cradled to his chest. His eyes are unfocused. Her small sobs let me know she’s alive.
“Olly?” His eyes roll into the back of his head, his movements still.
Sophie is crouched beside me, phone to her ear. But I can’t focus on her, on anyone else. My attention is on my baby and the man who just put himself between her and an oncoming car. I have to swallow down the nausea.
“Molly,” I croak, trying not to let my emotions overpower me.
“Mummy,” she sniffs into Olly’s shirt, his hands stained with blood.
“Come here, baby.” I hold out my trembling hands, and she shifts and raises her head, her eyes scrolling over Olly’s face.
“Olly, can you hear me?” Sophie asks, her voice trembling when her eyes meet mine.
“Baby, come here please. We need to help Olly, okay?”
She nods and moves away from him, into my open arms. Gently, I begin tracing her arms, face, head, all the way to her toes. I ask if anything hurts, but she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccups. “I didn’t stop and look,” she says, her lips trembling as tears cascade over her plump little cheeks. I kiss her face, unable to keep my own at bay.
“Paramedics are on their way,” Sophie says, her words a distant echo.
I press Molly to my body, her back now to Olly, who is lying motionless on the street. “Is he—” I struggle to find words.
“He’s breathing,” replies Sophie, pulling me into her side.
I notice the driver of the car sitting on the curb, his head between his legs. I look over my shoulder to see cars backing up down the street.
“Let me run in and get the first aid kit.” Sophie dashes back to the shop.
I see Marcus vomiting into the gutter. He straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before coming over, his face drained of colour. “I’m so sorry, Rach. I’m so fucking sorry.” He grips his hair in one hand. His entire body vibrates with shock. “Is she okay—is our baby okay?” he asks, his voice strained, laced with worry and concern I’ve never heard from him before.
I kiss her hair and breathe her in deep. “I think so. Shaken, maybe a few grazes, and shocked,” I reply.
He takes my hand in his and places the other on the small of Molly’s back as she clings to me. But I pull my hand from his and into Olly’s—it’s cold, so cold.
Thankfully, Sophie returns with a foil blanket and covers him.
“I don’t want to move him,” she says. “Just in case.”
I nod.
Molly begins to shiver, and without a word, Marcus strips off his jacket and wraps it over her and me.
Sirens are heard in the distance, a wail of noise into the midst of silent chaos.
This is all my fault.
I bite the inside of my mouth, drawing blood.
