Impact jolted me. The front end slammed hard into a tree. The engine sputtered but didn’t die.
For a second, everything went still.
Rain.
Thunder.
My pulse.
Then I moved.
I shoved the door open and stumbled out, barely registering the sting in my shoulder as I hit the ground and pushed back up.
The van stayed running behind me, headlights cutting jagged beams through the rain and branches. I didn’t look back. I ran.
Mud sucked at my shoes, sliding under my feet as I pushed deeper into the trees. Branches snagged at my clothes, rain plastering everything to my skin.
“Dad!” I screamed again.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the woods in stark flashes of white.
For a heartbeat, everything became visible.
The path ahead and the slope on the ground.
Then darkness again.
I kept going.
Because I knew where he was.
I just had to get there before the storm did something worse.
I found him.
For one split second, relief hit so hard it almost dropped me to my knees.
“Dad!”
He turned.
His face lit up with something softer.
“Pumpkin?” he said.
My chest cracked.
“Hey,” I said, forcing my voice steady as I stepped closer through the mud. “Hey, it’s me.”
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said gently, like I was small again. “It’s not safe. Storm’s coming.”
“It’s already here,” I said, trying to smile. “Let’s go back, okay?”
He shook his head, looking past me.
“No, no. We were building something. I have to finish it.”
My stomach dropped. The treehouse.
