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Screaming.
Terrified screaming that sends a flurry of chills down my spine.
A shrieking voice behind me fuses with squealing tires, yanking me out of the car, and I spin around to find a flash of headlights careening right at us. Out of control. Erratic.
Destined to hit us.
It’s one of those slow-motion movie moments that no one ever thinks actually happens in real life. But it does. It really does.
Your heart is in your ears, beating like a hollow drum.
Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.
Your blood is pumping hot and fast, reminding you that you’re still alive. For a few more moments, anyway. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience, and it’s so fast, so quick, just the blink of an eye.
You only have a split second to make a choice.
A decision.
And I always knew what I’d do if I was ever faced with a decision like this. Ever since I was a young boy. I just knew.
I wanted to be a saver.
So that’s why I do it.
That’s why I use that second to shove Kip into the back seat, knowing that it’s the only second I have. I don’t have another one.
I don’t have two seconds because that next second has me pinned against the red sedan from the waist down as the vehicle slams into me, shattering my bones, devastating my insides, while a sharp, strangled breath is forced out of me.
The pain doesn’t register right away. I’m not sure what exactly registers as my arms lay draped over the top of the sedan while my eyes glaze over. I’m slightly aware of the spattering of blood sprayed across the hood, the blood that came out with that rush of breath.
I’m partly aware of the ambulance that pulls up beside me as people gather and gasp, while a smoking hunk of metal is the only thing keeping my insides together.
I’m vaguely aware of Kip screaming at me from the back seat of the vehicle, trapped, unable to help me.
“Theo! Theo!” He’s shouting at the top of his lungs, somewhere far away. Muffled, murky. “Fucking answer me, Bailey! Goddamn you!” His voice drowns out with radio static and a dull ringing in my ears. “Officer down…”
Officer down.
But it’s not him who’s down—it’s me.
Kip is okay.
He’s alive.
It’s not him.
My lips quiver as I try to speak, too quiet for Kip to hear me. But I pretend he’s right here, laughing with me, telling me this will be a good story to look back on one day as we reminisce over a beer. “I–I knew it was a good day…to save someone,” I tell him in a choppy breath.
The thought brings me peace as my eyelids flutter, a dull, hot pain slicing through me. It’s the kind of pain that sends you into a dizzying spiral, into a black abyss, where your mind shuts off because it just can’t fucking deal.
Fuck, it hurts.
Cold sweat slicks my skin. My teeth start to chatter as everything around me blurs. Just a haze of shrill noise, undistinguishable words, and dancing tendrils of light.
I hate that it’s going to end this way.
I hate that Brant’s last memory of me is filled with violence and bloodshed after he’s already experienced so much of that.
