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“Good. That’s good, Mable.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, wanting to say one nice thing to my father. Now that I don’t know if we will make it out alive, I wish I had said things differently and treated them better, but I was such a brat and filled with so much anger. I only wanted my parents to notice me like every other teenager.
I’m eighteen and counting down the days until graduation so I can leave home. Now I wish I never had that thought at all as the Benedetti mafia surrounds us.
“I love you, Melissa. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you enough.”
“Tell me again when we get out of here,” she replies, and they give each other a quick kiss.
There’s only one way out, and that’s straight ahead. My dad slams his foot on the gas, and the back tires burn against the pavement as they try to gain traction. Our vehicle shoots forward, and the SUV in front of us does the same. My palm on the gray handle begins to sweat, slipping from the plastic, and because I’m too curious for my own good, I look over my shoulder again.
The other SUV is right behind us, and the one in front is getting closer and closer.
“Dad!” I scream, not knowing what else he can do, and the SUV hits us from behind. Metal crushes metal, and my head snaps forward.
Dad jerks the wheel to the left, missing the SUV in front of us by inches as if we are playing chicken in the middle of the road.
I must have a death wish because here I go again, staring out the back, and this time, I see a man with a gun. He’s leaning out the window, gun aiming at us, and I scream when I hear the bullet pierce the air. The back tire blows, and Dad loses control of the car. It fishtails, swaying back and forth, then spins in the middle of the road before flying through the air.
I can’t hear anything other than my own scream. Time slows as the car flips. My hair sways, and my necklace hits my chin. My jacket floats from the floorboard to the roof, then back down again with each flip through the air.
The roof of the car hits the ground first, and glass shatters, the shards prickling along my skin. I close my eyes to protect them, feeling the glass skim against my lids. The car rolls, more metal crushing and scrapping against the ground until, eventually, we are sliding along the asphalt.
We’re upside down, and I’m able to see sparks from the metal of the roof flying outside the shattered window.
I’m going to die.
The pavement disappears as we slide against the grass, kicking up chunks of dirt. We slam against something, and my head smacks against the dented roof. My head spins, and my eyes droop. Blood is rushing to my face as I hang upside down, the seatbelt digging into my neck, shoulder, and chest.
I groan, unable to open my eyes all the way when I hear footsteps crunching against the glass outside.
Without question, without hesitation, they stop at the side of the car. A man I don’t recognize bends down and aims a gun at my father’s head while another does the same to my mother. Small puffs of air sound next, their guns silenced as they shot my parents.
“Send proof,” he says to another, just as I hear the sound of a picture being taken.
“What about the girl?” a voice asks sounding younger than the guy in charge.
“Leave her. Consider it a gift. I’m feeling gracious today.”
Their voices seem far away, and something wet and warm drips down my face. My head sways, and it’s becoming harder to breathe. Darkness comes and goes. I can’t tell what is or isn’t. I’m trying to focus on breathing, but everything about surviving seems difficult right now.
I turn my head, watching as the SUVs leave. I close my eyes, tired, wanting to rest for a minute.
Just a minute.
That’s all I want.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I hear the rumble of another car. Opening my eyes again, I whimper and try to move, but I’m trapped.
They have come back to finish the job.
“Porter!” I recognize the voice. It’s Benedetti.
More glass crunches and my eyes flutter, barely seeing a face come into view. He reaches inside, cutting the seatbelt, and catches me when I fall.
“I have you. You’re okay. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, laying me against the soft grass.
I smell smoke from the car and blood.
