I’m upside down, pressed up against the steering wheel of a car. The dashboard is glowing dimly, now, but it’s unfamiliar.
Whose car is this?
You were in an accident, Juliet.
I blink again, swallow. It’s gritty, bitter, painful. Oh, God. Is there glass in my throat? Something wet is leaking from my nose. I lick my lips and taste blood.
It’s quiet. So very quiet. No sirens. Shouldn’t there be sirens, if I was in an accident? Are my ears working? They feel full, as if stuffed with cotton wool.
Or is it possible no one knows where I am?
I’m going to die here.
The thought is enough to spur me to action. I manage to pull one arm up from the darkness, and my fingers move off to the side, feeling for the cool glass of the window. Instead, my finger scrapes against something sharp, and I instantly regret exploring when thick clumps of earth come free.
The window has been shattered.
With my other hand, I try to reach for the seatbelt, but I think it’s the only thing holding me in place. If I unfasten it, I know I’ll come crashing down to the roof of the car.
Doesn’t matter. My arm is pinned. I can’t get it free to find the latch.
I turn my head, not far. Just an inch. The pain is exquisite, breathtaking.
Suddenly, whatever clogged my ears comes loose and noise comes rushing in, a deafening cacophony. The sound of traffic, whizzing by, somewhere close. Car horns blaring. Wheels on pavement.
Make it stop.
Something’s tugging at my eyelids, willing them to close again. I struggle to keep them open.
Headlights slash across the dashboard, illuminating a figure in the distance.
It’s hard to make it out. It’s just a silhouette, shrouded in fog.
I think they’re watching me.
Oh, thank god.
“Help,” I try to scream, but the voice that comes out is not my own. It’s weak, barely a whisper.
I try again, but I can’t get the breath. The pressure on my chest is too much.
The figure in the distance doesn’t move. They’re just standing there.
What’s wrong with them? Why aren’t they coming to help me?
That’s the last thing I remember before I give in to the darkness.
* * *
A second or a lifetime later,the scream of a siren wakes me.
I try to open my eyes but the light is too bright. I close them, but not before I see another silhouette above me. Two, actually. Hands moving frantically, trying to shove something down my throat.
I start to choke.
“Don’t fight. Let us help you,” someone says, her voice as if she’s shouting through a wind tunnel.
I’m fighting?