The van had gone over the shoulder and slid down the slope.
“I turned toward the rock.”
The investigator had told me that choice prevented a longer fall.
“You saved yourself.”
“No.”
His head moved weakly.
“There was a car behind me. I was trying not to take them with me.”
I had never known.
The report had never mentioned another vehicle.
“Then the door came in.”
His fingers crushed mine.
“My hip.”
Pain twisted his face as though the bones were breaking again.
“God.”
“You are not inside the van.”
“It hurts.”
“I know.”
“It hurts now.”
His body curled inward.
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him on the stool.
“Stay with my voice.”
“Dark.”
“You’re in the workshop.”
“Couldn’t breathe.”
“You are breathing now.”
“Metal on my chest.”
“There is no metal here.”
“Cold water.”
“Rain came through the windshield.”
His eye opened wide.
