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  “Nothing, you’re what’s wrong with me!” he yells back.

  “You just drove straight through a red light. Are you insane?”

  “If I am, it’s your fucking fault for always getting on my back,” he hisses.

  “And this is payback? Scaring me? How dare you,” I say. “Stop this car.”

  “No.”

  We’re nearing the highway, and I don’t want this to get worse. I need to get out. “Phillip, stop this car. Right. Now.”

  “No,” he repeats, fuming.

  “Let me out!” I scream.

  “We’re not doing this. Not now,” he says, gritting his teeth.

  I look around, but all I see are roads and other cars; no grass in sight to even remotely think of jumping out, even though that’s a ridiculous idea. But when you’re afraid, stupid things go through your head. I hate danger.

  Shit, we’re already driving on the highway. It’s too late.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “Get off the highway!”

  “I’m driving us home. Now will you shut up already?” he yells. “You’re driving me crazy with your constant whining.”

  The yelling causes him to cough so hard, the car swerves.

  “Be careful,” I say, sweating like crazy.

  “Shut up! Just shut up, all right? If you can shut your mouth for like ten minutes, we’ll get home safely, and I’ll be rid of this nasty cough,” he growls, still coughing.

  “Fine,” I say, and I turn my head to look out the window.

  The lights pass by quicker with every mile we drive, cars shooting by as if they were never even there. I try to focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself down so I can think of a rational solution to this problem. The problem being his cough and incredibly bad temper. I try to ignore the fact that the car is still speeding up and that his cough still has not subsided, even though he said it would when we’d stop talking. After a few minutes, the swaying becomes so bad that I turn my head to see if I can help.

  What I see makes my heart stop.

  Phillip’s eyes open and close.

  His body is limp.

  His hands aren’t on the steering wheel.

  And the car has already veered from one lane into the other.

  “No!” I squeal, grasping the wheel with all I have, trying to straighten it in time.

  But the car is already too skewed, and when I turn the wheel, it starts to spin.

  The backside slips to the left, crashing into the guardrail. Another car hits ours so hard it catapults us into the air.

  At this moment in time, my body is bumping into my seat and my head into the window, exploding in pain. My vision becomes blurry as the car cartwheels across the road. I swing from left to right, up and down, as the belt proves to be of little use to protect me. My hands clamp around my face in an attempt to protect myself as the car flips again and again.

  When the car comes to a stop, I’m hanging from the top and gravity is pulling on my body. My lungs are about to burst from the air locked inside. For a moment, my mind leaves my body, and I fade in and out of consciousness. Blood trickles down my nose, keeping me awake. My hands feel numb and my feet are swollen, but somewhere inside me, I find the courage to move.

  I lift the belt and unbuckle myself. My body drops to the hard roof, which is now the floor, crushing my ribs. I howl in pain, but stop when I can’t breathe. I blink to clear my view and look around. Phillip hangs next to me, his body lifeless and limp. And then I notice the smoke.

  “Phillip,” I whisper. “Phillip, wake up.” My throat burns and my muscles ache as I attempt to free him. However, a flicker of fire is enough to make me stop in my tracks. Flames are eating up the car, and by the time I slide out of the car, they have swallowed the metal.

  I crawl further away, hoping to get on my feet and run to Phillip’s side so I can drag him out myself, but when I try to stand, my legs won’t budge. Cars around us stop as I fight to get away from the car. The fuel entering my nostrils is the adrenaline that pushes me to keep going.

  When I turn my head to look at the car, flames have engulfed it.

  My ears are ringing, my eyes tearing up from the pain.

  My husband is in there, and despite my efforts, I can’t make it back in time.

  He’s burning alive.

  “No!” I yell but then cough because I can’t bear the pain. It’s so hot, and everything hurts.

  As I look around, someone comes toward me. One of the people from the cars that stopped. My vision is getting blurry again, and my strength is fading fast. Even though I try to lift my arms, they don’t listen to me, and I lie lifelessly on the cold asphalt, waiting for the ordeal to end.

  Feet come closer until they stop in front of me. I pour my last ounce of strength into gazing up into the eyes of the one who will pull me out of here.

  He’s none other than the man at the party.

  But his eyes show no mercy.

  CHAPTER 2

  PHOENIX

  A few minutes ago …

  The moment they step into the car, I rush through the back entrance and run to my own car. I would’ve stopped her from going with him if it weren’t for the fact that the place was crowded. Why the fuck did they leave anyway? He was supposed to collapse on the floor, or in the fucking bathroom, but not drive his fucking car.

  I jump in my Audi A8, start it up, and race off the parking lot. Trailing behind them, I make sure they don’t see me as they drive to the highway. I wonder what he’s planning to do, but he won’t go far. I doubt they’ll even make it home. The chain reaction has already been set into motion, and once he passes out, the car will steer out of control. I can already see it coming miles ahead. Nothing will save them.

  It’s unfortunate that she had to step into the car with him, but I can’t change the past. I dislike unnecessary casualties, but if it happens, so be it.

  I watch as the car starts to swerve and then the spinning begins. The car hits the rails and I slow down as it catapults onto the asphalt road, tumbling over. Once it comes to a stop, the metal is already set ablaze.

  I stop my car not far ahead of the accident. Other cars slow down around us, but I’m the first to block the road. The fire crackles as I step out of my car and look at the onslaught. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way, but at least I can be sure he’s dead now.

  I walk toward the wreckage where the girl comes crawling out, barely conscious. Noise comes from her mouth as she wriggles across the ground toward me. She looks up to gaze at me before her head drops on the ground.

  Cocking my head to look at her, I fish in my pocket, whip out my phone, and dial the number.

  “It’s done,” I say.

  I close the phone immediately and go to my knees. My fingers instinctively reach for her face as I wipe away the dirt and blackened hairs. She’s beautiful. A beautiful, wretched, ruined girl.

  I didn’t mean to drag her into this, but I guess she had it coming for her.

  If you associate yourself with men like him, you’re going to be in trouble.

  However, some part of me feels a little taken aback watching her die slowly on the cold, hard ground. My heart, which rarely beats for anyone, tugs at me for some reason and I can’t shake it off. I should feel nothing; no remorse, no guilt, no sorrow, no anger … nothing. But this woman …

  Sighing, I pick up her limp body and drag her further away from the car, which flames have engulfed. I pull her all the way off to the side of the road as onlookers flock to the fire.

  “I’m being nice now,” I say, as I place her in the bushes where it’s safe. “I normally don’t do this, but I’ll make an exception for you. Once.” I know I’m talking to a passed out person, but I don’t care.

  I take out my phone again. “I’d like to report a car accident.”

  ***

  VANESSA

  The light shining down upon me blinds me. I blink a couple of times, wondering if this is the tunnel they speak about, and if I
’m about to walk into heaven. Would it look like the place in my dreams? Coconut trees, white sandy beaches, a scorching sun, an endless ocean, and all the men in the world at my feet begging to touch just an inch of my skin…

  I don’t remember falling asleep. My body just wouldn’t move, and now … now it feels like I’m floating. Floating through the air, drifting on an endless stream of subconscious thoughts. I’m not sure where I am, but that’s all right. Anywhere is better than on that highway. In that car. Burning.

  I shudder, and somehow, it prickles on my skin. Am I supposed to feel something in heaven? I don’t know. Am I even there? Is that light really a tunnel? I don’t remember dying … just darkness and pain. A lot of pain.

  It hurts to try to move. The bedding is soft, but my body aches with every tightening of my muscles. My eyes start burning, and I get the urge to rub them. Only after a little while do my hands actually move to my face. It’s then that I realize there are wires in the way.

  This can’t be heaven. It wouldn’t pin me down like this. Pain should not exist here. I refuse to accept that.

  After focusing intensely, just like during a bad nightmare I want to wake up from, my eyes manage to open. The light was neither a tunnel nor heaven. It’s a bright fluorescent light on the ceiling. A soft beep is audible. For a moment, I believe I’m on a stage and there are people near me cheering me on. The story has ended. The woman died. Applause ensues.

  But not everything is a play.

  This isn’t heaven, where I get to act out every fantasy I ever had.

  This is real life, and I’m still alive, breathing in this hell.

  A painful hell.

  My lungs hurt each time they suck in the oxygen to breathe. My eyes search to find something meaningful, but all they find are humans dressed in white coats, holding charts in their hands. The beep is getting louder and louder until the sound becomes so annoying, I want to scream, even though I can’t.

  My mouth is dry, my lips raw, and the only noise coming from me sounds like a bird being choked to death.

  “Where am I?” I ask the man nearby. At least, I think it is a man.

  The blur that walks to me turns into a person with quite a distinctive beard. I knew it was a man.

  “You’re in the hospital,” he says.

  His voice is muffled, like mine, as if there are cloths over our mouths meant to slowly strangle us. Silence is the best tool to shut someone up, however, now it feels like my mind is silencing me instead. Something wants to come out … something important. A memory, perhaps. Something flaring and evil.

  Eyes.

  I gasp and shoot up from the bed, all beeps going off like crazy.

  “It’s him!” I yell with a raspy voice.

  The doctor pushes me down. “Mrs. Starr! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  My breathing is erratic, and my heart is almost beating out of my chest just because of that vision inside my head. I saw him; that man, his conniving eyes, and that devilish smirk on his face.

  “I saw him,” I repeat, voicing the thoughts going on in my head.

  “Who? What are you talking about?” The doctor keeps me down on the bed. “Mrs. Starr, you have to lie down or your stitches will spring.”

  “Stitches?” I ask.

  “Yes, you were hurt quite badly from the crash.”

  “Crash?” I keep repeating his words because I don’t understand. I can’t think of anything else but those eyes … those eyes haunt me.

  The doctor sighs. “Please lie down, Mrs. Starr, and try to get some rest. You’re still healing, and you need all the energy you can muster.”

  “But I have to tell them …” I mumble, my eyes still droopy. I can’t keep them open.

  “Tell who what?”

  My mouth opens, but my vocal cords won’t budge. I can’t say it, and I’ve already forgotten half of what I was going to say. Why is my head so cloudy?

  “Just go to sleep. We’ll talk some more when you wake up,” he says, smiling. “Rest assured, we will do our very best to care for you.”

  “Thank you,” I croak, not even remembering what he just said.

  I still feel so sleepy. So drowsy …

  It doesn’t take long before I black out again.

  ***

  When I wake up again, there is someone at my bed.

  Arthur, Phillip’s younger and certainly more attractive brother. They look very much alike, except Arthur kept all the charming bits that his brother, Phillip, lost over the years. That, and he clearly takes better care of his physique.

  For a moment, I wonder why he’s here. Although, we’ve always had a strong bond and it would make sense for him to come to my side in the hospital. I wouldn’t have expected him to be the first to visit. Even after all these years, his devotion to me is untouched.

  His eyes are glossy the moment he sees me look at him.

  “Hi,” I say, giving him a tiny smile.

  “Vanessa, you’re awake,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better … I think.”

  He smiles, but it’s no genuine smile. Frowning, he drops his head. “Did the doctors tell you anything?”

  “No?” I ask. As I sit up, it hurts my body, but I manage to do it without the help he offers. “What should they have told me?”

  “Do you remember what happened to you?” he asks.

  “A little …” My brain crunches. “I was in an accident, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Arthur says, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

  I swallow away the lump in my throat, not knowing how to respond to that. I don’t want to imagine escaping death by an inch, but I do. Memories flash through my head—the party, having a drink, and then leaving with the car … the highway … the car tumbling around, spinning through the air. Phillip.

  “Where’s Phillip?” I quickly ask, holding my breath.

  Arthur mulls around as if he’s afraid to speak the words. He fumbles with his shirt and licks his lips. “He … he didn’t make it.”

  My jaw drops, my lips shuddering. My body shakes, and it feels like even my bones are trembling. “He’s … dead …” I mumble, unsure how in the hell it all happened. I can’t believe it … and yet, it did. Phillip is dead. My husband is dead.

  Oh, my god.

  I gaze at Arthur who immediately grabs my hand and holds it, gently caressing it. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” I stammer. “He’s your brother.”

  “He is—was, yes, but he was your husband.”

  “I can’t believe he’s actually dead. He’s really gone?”

  “Yes. They were too late to … get him out of the burning car.”

  My lips part, but nothing comes out. I have difficulty coming to terms with what happened, but also with my own emotions because honestly … I don’t feel anything. It’s all blank.

  It’s quiet for some time. I guess neither of us knows what to say. Nothing can be said that can make this any better to deal with, and I know that he feels the same way.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he says.

  He comes closer and opens his arms. I gently slide into his arms, letting him wrap them around me. His hug makes me sigh as I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the clock ticking on the wall. The time has stopped, but only for us, not for the outside world.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I mumble. It’s the truth.

  All I can think about is the burning corpse inside that car.

  The images make my heart lose control. I never expected Phillip to die that way.

  “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay if you want to cry,” he says. “You have my shoulder.” His warm hand comforts me and makes me feel safe.

  “Thank you …” I say. “I just don’t know if I want to cry.”

  “Take your time,” he says. “I’m here for you.”

  He leans back and looks at me, smiling gently. Deeply seated affection fills
his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here every day if you need me.” He places his hand on my cheek and caresses it. It feels genuine but so wrong at the same time.

  “But what about you?” I grab his hand. “He’s your brother. You need someone just as much.”

  “I can handle it,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about your own health.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You should get some rest.”

  When he gets up, I reach for his wrist. “Don’t go.”

  He looks back. “I don’t want to be here if your parents come. It wouldn’t be … right.” The way he says it confirms my suspicions, and it flatters me, even though it shouldn’t.

  We’ve always connected on a level Phillip and I couldn’t, which is why this feels so bad … but I need it more than anything in the world right now.

  Phillip isn’t here. I have no one else to keep me company. I need Arthur as much as he needs me right now.

  “Stay with me,” I say. “I don’t mind.”

  “But your parents—”

  “Let them talk,” I interrupt. “I don’t care.”

  I smile at him, and I can see him changing his mind.

  So he sits down beside me in his chair and holds my hand, while we exchange tender, compassionate looks.

  Hard times call for desperate measures.

  And we’re both in desperate need of consolation. In whatever way necessary.

  CHAPTER 3

  VANESSA

  A few days later …

  When the doctor comes to my bed, I’m already wide awake. I demanded his presence because I’m tired of being forced to stay in this bed. I lift my gown like always and show him the scar on my hip, which healed quite nicely with the stitches, and the cuts on my arms and belly have almost disappeared. I’m so lucky my face was spared. Just a few bruises here and there and a swollen lip, but nothing too bad.