Page 21 of Wreckage

I turned sharply, ignoring the sharp pull of pain through my body.

“Troy!”

He was still strapped in his seat, his body limp and unnatural.

No. No. No. NO!

I reached for him, pain splintering through me like fire, but I didn’t care. I had to get my brother to open his eyes. To tell me he was OK.

“Troy!” My voice cracked. My hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him. Too still. He was too fucking still.

Please, wake up.

I sobbed softly, shaking him gently, his name on repeat.

Finally, a low raspy groan.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Troy’s head lolled slightly, a deep, pained grunt slipping from his lips. His face was battered and bruised, both dried and fresh blood smeared across his skin.

His mouth parted, voice barely above a whisper.

“E…lena…”

I swallowed hard, my chest tight. I was too scared to look at her. Too afraid to know…

“I’ll check on her,” I promised, steadying my voice.

I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to keep shaking him, to make sure he was OK. But I had to check. I had to see if she?—

Don’t think about it. Just move. Just get to her.

I gritted my teeth and unbuckled my seatbelt, groaning as I shifted. Pain tore through me, hot and sharp, but I bit it down, forcing my body to keep going. I turned, my breath catching as my eyes landed on her.

Elena.

She was still in her seat, slumped at an awkward angle.

Unconscious.

Bloody.

My chest seized.

“No.” I stumbled toward her, my body screaming in protest.

Her head tilted slightly to the side, her braid half-undone, and strands of her dark hair matted with blood.

Her face—God, her face.

One side was swollen and bruised, a deep cut running along her temple, dried blood trailing down to her jaw. Scratches danced along her cheek; her lips split and bloody.

“E-Elena, wake up,” my voice shook.

I reached for her, my fingers trembling as I touched her arm. Cold. So fucking cold.

I had no idea how long we’d been in the wreckage; I just knew it must have been long since the sun was now setting.

---