Page 1 of Pretty Thing

one

​. . .​

Eden

Mom gasps. Dad swears.

Our car jerks violently to the left. The tires skid as Dad fights with the steering wheel. My phone flies from my hands and slams into the door. I grab the seat in front of me, while my heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“Dad!”

The world tilts.

Unbelievably bright headlights blind me through the windshield…impossibly close.

Bang.

The impact feels like a bomb going off. Glass explodes around me as we’re immediately hit again from behind. Tiny pieces bite into my skin like teeth. The force drives us forward, scraping past the car in front of us. I cover my head as a truck rams the driver’s side, knocking us sideways.

I taste something metallic…blood. The sounds around me are deafening, then muffled, like I’ve been shoved underwater.

Everything happens so fast. It’s as if we’ve been picked up by a tornado and tossed around in a deadly game of bumper cars.

Our car lifts off the ground, and I’m weightless for what feels like forever before we crash back down.

There is a moment of silence, or maybe I just can’t hear.

And then a snap.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream when I see bone sticking through the skin in my arm. My stomach churns at the sight. Leaning down, I vomit just as we are hit again.

Sharp, piercing pain rips through my side, and the seatbelt digs into my shoulder and chest. Blood runs down my arm, and my muddled brain scrambles to remember basic first aid.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Stay calm. That’s the first rule in emergencies. Right?

I glance around and see my windbreaker in the back window. Grabbing it, I shake out the glass shards, then bite my lip hard. My stomach rolls again as I make a ring and slip it over the bone to hold it in place. Then I cover it to keep the area clean and wrap it as tight as I can.

Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.

I barely get it tied and the car beside us is hit again. We must be close to the edge of the road, but I can’t figure out which way we’re facing.

How close are we to going over the embankment?

Metal shrieks around us. Not crashing but screaming—like something being torn apart.

High beams shine through the car from every angle as the road fills with casualties. I hold my broken arm to my chest, trying to protect it from the relentless assault.

We’re going to be crushed.

Terror claws at my throat, but I’m frozen in place. The car lurches violently before the front slams into something hard and comes to a complete stop.

My ankle is throbbing and burning, but I haven’t noticed it until now, with the pain from my arm. Everything hurts, and all I can hear is a ringing in my ears and my heavy breaths.

The world is fuzzy like I’ve put on the wrong prescription glasses. Nothing makes sense when I lift my head. All I can see is smoke, metal, and destruction.

Is this a concussion or am I dying?