AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Aladden
16MonthsAgo
The sight before me is blurry; my eyes are drifting, my head is swirling, and I don’t know which way north could be.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I can still hear the noise of broken glass colliding with metal. My hand punches the roof of the cab. I slap my hands on the steering wheel and grip it.
Adrenaline is usually my favorite weapon, my favorite drug, but right now, it betrays me with fear instead of courage.
I wasn’t thinking; I closed my eyes and thought I was invincible. The windows were open wide, and I let the wind whip against my face to feel freedom.
But then they came out of my left, and I couldn’t stop. My front hit the tip of theirs, and it spun them in circles away from me as I continued straight until I could stop. I touch my chest, trying to regain the balance of my breath, but it doesn’t help because when I look back at them, I see the worst-case scenario.
There should be sirens, but everything is quiet, too quiet. I bump my shoulder against the door, and it opens easily. My truck barely has a scratch on it. Out on these back roads, where I was trying to escape, but now I am faced with a new lie to tell. The car across the street is in the ditch. I know what I have done before I even take a step toward them.
No one screams, and I panic because the endless silence makes me nervous and makes me responsible.
“Hello?” I call out with pitiful effort.
There is nothing for miles and miles; I spin around to ensure no one is spying on this accident. With a few more beats of my heart and a few more steps toward the wrecked vehicle, I find two more than I hoped I would find.
An older woman with black hair is asleep in the passenger seat; I pull against the door and pry it open. I check her pulse, and there isn’t a flick of life there.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my eyes jumping all over her body to see if there are any wounds. There is a nasty gash on her forehead, and I wonder if I put it there.
“Fuck.” But this time, it doesn’t come out of my mouth. My eyes move over to the driver and she reaches for her leg and squeezes it.
It’s behind midnight, the moon in the sky. We are all covered in darkness in more ways than one tonight.
“Hey, are you okay?” Her body is pinned against the door. The driver’s side of the car is smashed against the side of the ditch.
“I—I don’t think she’ll make it.” The girl shakes her head. My eyes go back to the passenger, and she is too still to be revived. When the driver’s head falls to the side, I see a familiar face.
“Alaska?” Confused about what the hell she is doing clear out here and how we collided. But before I can get a response, I think better of it and know I need to call an ambulance. They might get here in time to save her.
I pull out my phone and have to angle away from the car to get a signal. I dial in the three digits and find myself hoping no one picks up. Because there are some explicit things in my system and I don’t know what story to tell tonight.
The operator answers, and I relay the best information my foggy mind can conjure. She keeps talking and I lay the phone on the road and check back on Alaska.
“Alaska? Are you with me?” I reach out and hold her hand; it’s hot, but I don’t know what from. I am freaking out; I don’t know how to help her, I don’t know what else to do.
She doesn’t stir immediately, and her shoulders seem to shift like she is waking up from a nap.
“Only assholes call me that.” This makes me laugh. I’ve never seen sweet innocent Alaska talk back, much less curse.
“I guess that makes me an asshole, baby.” My mouth pulls to a side smile, a little relief for the recent events.
“Who are you?” It’s a whisper as she fades, wrapping her arms the best she can against her bruised body.
I can hear the sirens start, they are in the distance, but there is still time. My thumb rubs over her fingers, and I want to pretend this affection is normal for us. But we aren't exactly on the same social ladder.
We graduated from high school a few hours ago. There were about two thousand kids in our grade. There were too many faces to remember, but mine always seemed to be in the spotlight. I think we had one class together. I instantly feel guilty because I know nothing about her, and she might die on the side of the road.
“I don’t know, Alaska. I don’t know who I am anymore.” I have never felt more alone.
The only thing I can imagine is pools in Guatemala. Rich green water against a forest of trees. In Semuc Champey, I escape. I am not tied to Arizona or the mistakes I have made tonight. Underwater, I hold my breath and don’t race to finish first. I think about being in a different country and finding peace against a new current.
