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It's plain enough to anyone familiar with tread marks. She slammed on the brakes before the turn, but didn’t have enough room to regain control. She went through the guardrail leading with the front driver side of the car.
We follow the tracks, turning to take in what remains of the guardrail. Splintered posts and wood litter the ground. The twisted metal of the rail pushed back away from the road, ripped in half by the Camaro.
Emotion fills my chest and I swallow hard, forcing myself to approach the edge.
The drop must be nearly fifty feet to the bottom.
“Jesus,” Sander whispers, seeing the scene for the first time.
“The Boneyard,” I say, recalling the way Keaton teased me over the childish names this place was given.
Not so funny now, huh, babe?
“How many people have died out here?” he asks, like he’s trying to process what he’s seeing.
“I don’t know. One that I saw,” I tell him.
“You saw it happen?”
“Yeah, like seven years ago or something. I was out here with my brother, and this guy just lost control and flew over the side.”
I thought my heart had fallen out of my ass that day. No one expected him to miss that turn, and when he did… I swear the crowd held their collective breaths for a whole minute before realizing he hadn’t survived.
Picturing my beautiful head strong girl in the same situation makes me sick to my stomach.
I turn away quickly, steadying my hands on my knees and gulping down breath after breath.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” Sander says, rushing immediately to my side.
My chest constricts, and I can’t slow my breathing down.
She could have died.
I could have lost her, just like I lost Tommy.
Fuck, she must have been so scared.
“Bodhi,” Sander says my name, but it sounds like it comes from somewhere far away.
Sweat breaks out across my brow and my vision swims.
“Bodhi?” He says again, reaching for me.
He pulls me upright, turning me to face him, but all I can see is Keaton's face. Her whiskey-colored eyes filled with tears, screaming for help from the bottom of that cliff.
SMACK!
My head whips to the side, cheek hot and stinging.
What the fuck?
Sander’s concerned eyes find mine, and I reach up to palm my cheek.
“Shit, man,” I say.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry, but you were out of it. What the hell was that?” he asks, watching me closely.
“I don’t know, but it’s been happening a lot more than I care for these last few days,” I say, muttering the last part under my breath. This close though, Sander has no problem hearing me.
