Page 61 of Dream On

I crack one eye open at a time, reality sinking into me. The windshield is smashed. Icy tendrils of wind and snow torpedo through the gaping hole of shattered glass, freezing the liquid heat rolling down my face. I swipe at it, and my hand comes away red.

Blood. I’m covered in blood.

Everything funnels back to me.

The jerk of the wheel, tires squealing, a scream.

Her scream.

I’m a misshapen mess of limbs, half sprawled out across the center console of Stevie’s car.

Blinking repeatedly, I force the fog away and wince as I reach over to the seat. “Stevie.” I lift my head, searching, scanning, wondering if this is just another nightmare. “Stevie…”

Her blurry shape comes into focus beside me.

I blink again.

Again.

Dark hair. Black dress. More blood.

She’s not moving.

“No…fuck, no…” I try to twist farther in the seat to check on her, but I’m stuck. Fluid dribbles from the gash in my forehead, warping my vision. I wrestle with the seat belt, every limb quivering from adrenaline, terror, fear. The airbag clings to my face, nearly suffocating me, while the horn blares, assaulting my eardrums. “Stevie, hold on,” I gasp, wrenching the belt free and shoving at the door with my shoulder.

It doesn’t budge. Desperation seizes me as I kick and slam against the door, every impact sending pain through my foot. “Fuck! Come on. Comeon.” I keep going, launching myself against the barrier of disfigured metal and crumpled steel.

Finally, with a harrowing groan, the door gives way.

I spill out of the vehicle, collapsing in the snow.

My ankle is crooked, sprained. Everything hurts. Swiping bloodied hairfrom my eyes, I crawl manically on my hands and knees around the front of the car. Snow mixes with dirt, kicking up behind me as I scramble toward the passenger’s side, desperation pushing me faster.

I yank the door handle. The cabin is dark, smoke curling from the dashboard. My chest tightens—she’s slumped against the seat, airbag deflating slowly, bruises blooming across her face like purple shadows while a series of cuts dapple her skin.

Her eyelids flutter, just barely.

She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive.

Her chest rises and falls, but it’s shallow.

“Stevie…Stevie, fuck…” I choke back the panic, my fingers shaking as I fumble with the seat belt. It clicks free, and I don’t even think. I pull her out, wincing as my ankle screams in protest. The smell of gasoline is thick, and the hiss of the engine sounds like a countdown.

Using all my strength, I drag her across the snow, away from the car in case it explodes. I don’t know if I should move her, but fear and adrenaline take over. The instinct to protect kicks in, overpowering my hesitation. I can’t shake the image of the car erupting into flames, a fiery cage trapping her inside.

My breaths come in ragged gasps, each one harder than the last, until finally, we’re a few feet from the car. I collapse beside her. Her brown hair draws stripes across her face while red stains mottle the freshly fallen snow like drops of ink spilled on a blank canvas.

I take her face between my hands.

Images blur together in a crimson haze as I growl her name through clenched teeth. “Stevie.” The wind whistles, barely carrying my voice. A ghostly howl. “Hey, look at me. Eyes on me.” I hover over her, gritting agony into the wind. “C’mon, Nicks, please.”

Her teeth chatter. “I fell. My…leg.”

For a split second, relief and horror clash inside me. She’s conscious, she’s talking, but pain ripples through her voice. I glance down at her leg—the unnatural angle, the way her knee bends inward, like a broken puppet string hanging loose.

I don’t know what to say, so I grip her hand, trying to steady the both of us. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, though the words feel feeble, lost in the wind.

Blood from my head wound splashes across her face. She’s so pale, so cold.