Page 83 of Chase Our Forever

Every step I take is excruciating, but somehow, I manage to walk to the bottom of the embankment with only a few stumbles and only one fall into the snow. A loud sob falls from my lips as I realize just how steep the ditch is and how hard it’s going to be to climb up it.

“No,” I groan, my eyes searching the snow-covered shrubs to figure out how to even begin to climb what’s in front of me. Even if I hadn’t just gotten in a car crash and wasn’t freezing, making it up the steep incline would be challenging. So in my current state, it seems impossible.

I press my hand into a nearby tree trunk just to give myself a small break before setting out to climb out of the ditch. I know if I stand here too long, I’ll talk myself out of doing it.

“I can do hard things,” I mutter to myself, my voice completely raw from the cold. It’s a line from one of Clara’s books she has me read to her before every nap. It’s a line we’ve adopted in saying every day when we’re feeling sad or frustrated and want to give up. Little did I know how much it’d encourage me to keep moving forward when my muscles are begging me to just lie down in the soft snow and hope someone finds me.

A small rustling sound has me looking up. I squint through the darkness, trying to find out where it’s coming from.

Has someone found me?

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the fogginess around it. The sound is too soft and faint to be someone, but it’s still a sound. It has to be something.

The sound gets closer, and only because of the small amount of moonlight that filters through the tops of the trees am I able tosee a cardinal land just a few feet above me. It flaps its wings for a moment, getting comfortable on the tree branch closest to me.

I blink a few times, wondering if I’m just seeing things. I think I hit my head pretty hard, so maybe it’s the injury making me hallucinate.

Do birds typically get this close?

I stare at it for a moment before focusing back on the steep hill in front of me. I’m disoriented and probably a little delirious, but for some reason, the company of the cardinal soothes me. I take one deep breath and decide it’s time to start climbing.

My boots slip almost immediately, but I’m able to grab onto the thick base of a bush, keeping me from sliding down the ground and having to start over.

“I can do hard things,” I chant to myself over and over as I grab onto different things to keep myself from slipping. Every time I fall, the wet snow seeps through my jeans and makes me even colder, but I don’t give up. I keep going, despite the protests of my aching muscles and throbbing head.

The bird, which I’m positive might just be a figment of my imagination, stays with me the entire time. It lands on tree branches and bushes, keeping me company as I give it my all to climb the intense slope of the ditch.

Climbing up the final feet of the icy, steep incline of the ditch takes me a couple of tries, but I manage to finally get my footing enough to hoist myself onto level ground.

I fall to my knees as I let out a cry of relief.

I did it. I’m one step closer to finding help…to getting back to Dean.

My chest heaves up and down from the exertion of climbing up the ditch. I allow myself a few moments to gather myself as I look around. I can barely make out the road because of how dark it is, but my fears from earlier were correct. You’d never know I spun out and ran off the road. It’s calm and peaceful right now,giving no indication of the accident that happened below. The moon tries to peek through the thickness of the trees, but it only provides the smallest amount of light.

It’s completely silent. The only thing filling the quiet is the sound of my labored breaths and the beating wings of the cardinal as it lands on the road right in front of me.

“I’ve got to be imagining you,” I whisper. The bright red of the bird sticks out against the white snow. The scene in front of me is almost void of all color. There’s the darkness of the sky and the night around me and the bright white of the snow. The cardinal is the only color, probably just a figment of my imagination to get me through the situation I’m currently in.

It seems like forever that there’s nothing but darkness. Not a single car drives by as my body gets more numb from the cold with each passing second. I’m about to give up hope when I finally catch a glimpse of headlights in the distance.

Hope blossoms deep in my chest as I hastily push myself from the ground and wait for the car to get closer. The bird flaps its wings next to me but doesn’t take flight. I stare ahead at the car, praying it will see me waiting on the side of the road. Hoping it’ll stop and give me aid. I stand far enough from the road to avoid getting hit but still try to keep myself visible for them to see me and slow down to help.

Luckily, the car goes slow enough down the icy, snowy road that they’re about to spot me. I let out a deep sigh of relief when they do come to a stop. An older man with wire glasses steps out of the large SUV.

“Are you okay?” the man asks, his tone full of worry.

I look to where the bird just was, finding it gone. Maybe it really was something I just imagined so I didn’t feel alone.

I press my fingers to my forehead. Through the struggle of trying to climb up the steep embankment and waiting for a car to come by, I’d forgotten about the cut on my forehead. At thispoint, everything hurts so bad I’d drowned out the pain from the specific spot. “I think,” I answer.

“Should I call the police? Do you need an ambulance?”

“Would it take long for them to get out here?” I ask. I have no idea where I’m even at. There’s a chance I could’ve taken a wrong turn, although I thought I’d been going in the right direction before the accident. Things are a little too fuzzy to tell.

The man mulls over my question for a minute. I try not to get nervous about being alone with him. I’ve never been trusting of men because of my father and the men he’d bring around, but I’m not left with a lot of options. The deep crease of worry across the man’s forehead gives me hope that he’s someone I don’t have to be afraid of. “The weather’s bad. We might be out in the cold for a while waiting. Where were you headed?” He looks over my shoulder, where you can see the dim light of my lone shining headlight down below.

“Sutten Mountain.” I wobble on my feet a little.

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