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Shrieks ricocheted all around.
Billie’s ears rattled with the cries as the body smacked up from the front, then hit the roof with a thud.
Her foot flattened the brake pedal to the floor.
The rear tires jumped over the road.
The body jerked from the roof and rocketed through the air. It landed on the road, limbs tangled and bent all over.
The car stopped with a screech.
And inside the wagon, time stood still.
2
MAY 1991
No one moved.
Not a single one of the five girls that were crammed into the car made so much as a noise, not even a whimper. Muscles hardened, they’d all become statues. Frozen in a beaten-up car with a thick splash of fresh blood running down the windshield.
As though all the liquor and coke had suddenly been sucked out of them, they were rigid and silent in their seats. The sobriety of the body lying limp a few feet ahead on the road hit them all.
They all just… stared.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
The only sound that broke the silence, the silence so thick that it was fast becoming suffocating, and Billie struggled to breathe. Lightheaded, she listened to the drip, drip, drip: Blood, she assumed, falling from the smeared hood onto the road.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
Then, finally, someone moved. And it wasn’t the body ahead on the road with a puddle of blood starting to pool around it.
It was Kate.
The passenger seat creaked as she leaned forward.
Billie flinched, blinking out of her daze. The burn of nausea started its crawl up her throat. She swallowed down the bile-burn and watched her closest friend twist towards her.
Kate’s hand should have been shaking as she reached for the driver’s side, but it somehow was steady, something that Billie noticed even in her stupor.
Billie’s seafoam-blue eyes watched Kate’s delicate brown fingers grip the end of the wiper stick with a pinch of her manicured fingers then tug it down.
Billie flinched.
Behind her, the twins—Gigi and Tonya—gasped in a hushed unison. The faint slap of a hand on a mouth came not a second after; Carmine muffling her own groan of disgust mixed with a burpy-retching sound.
It was… nauseating. The sight of fresh, thick blood hit over and over with a wiper, spreading out into something brownish and streaked.
“I can’t.” Billie’s whisper was so deafening in the car that it might as well have been a shout. “Kate…”
