Page 3 of Pretty Thing

Still no response.

With no other option, I move across the seat and look out the window. The woman isn’t moving, but the stench in the air has me turning away and covering my mouth.

God help us.

With a whimper, I pull on the handle, but it won’t move either. Shit. I slam my palm against the glass, again and again, trying to break it.

“No. No, no, no. Just hang on. I’m going to get help.”

Out of nowhere, more screeching tires. The impact rocks the car. I lurch back and land on the seat. Instinctively, I reach out with my right arm. A bloodcurdling scream rips from my lungs as I remember too late that it’s broken.

My stomach threatens to turn inside out again, and I feel faint as tears coat my cheeks. I lay on the seat shaking, trying not to pass out, but maybe it’s better if I do. Swallowing hard, I slowly sit up.

The sound of metal echoes down the road as more vehicles join the chaos.

“I need to get out of here. I have to save my parents. We can’t die in this tin can.”

Blood smears across the window as I try again to break the glass, but I don’t stop.

“Help!” My throat feels shredded. “Please—help!”

Sirens sound in the distance, faint at first, then louder. Red and blue lights flash through the shattered windshield, painting everything in violent color through the night.

I bang on the glass again, sobbing now.

“I’m here! I’m here!” I cry out over and over. “Someone, please, help us. Can anyone hear me?”

Hands appear and press up against the window. A face. A guy. He’s yelling something I can’t understand. He tries the door.

“Fuck,” he yells, loud enough I can hear when it doesn’t open.

The guy punches the glass, and I jerk back.

“I’ve got you,” he shouts, louder. “Stay with me.”

Then he disappears into the night.

“No, please don’t leave me. Come back!” My voice shakes. “Please,” I yell, hitting the window. “Don’t leave us here!”

He comes back with something in his hands and gets close to the glass between us.

“I’m going to break the window, move back, and cover your head.”

His blue eyes penetrate my soul, and I do what he says, biting my lip when a sharp pain shoots up my arm. I grab the neck of my hoodie and pull it up over my head like a shield. I feel like my favorite animal, a sea turtle, tucking into my shell.

Crack.

I jerk back.

Crack.

Louder this time.

Smash.

Cold air rushes in, reminding me that it’s the middle of winter. I gasp in fresh oxygen like I’ve been drowning.

“Hey there, are you okay?”