Page 138 of Lush

We skidded. My stomach lurched as the back end of the car slid to the side, nearly dipping into the ditch. My hands were shaking as I attempted to unlock my phone. The car groaned, burning rubber filling the air. The world around us seemed to tilt, the road narrowing as the black car pressed closer, faster.

I held my breath, gripping the seat, eyes flicking between Jennie and the rearview mirror, praying we could break free, as I pulled up keypad.

And then it happened—wham!

We spun out.

Time slowed down. I saw nothing but a blur—trees, road, sky—all of it spinning together in a dizzying whirl. We smashed into the guardrail with a appallingcrunch. Thoughts left my brain. The impact threw me hard against the seat belt, my body snapping forward before slamming back into the seat. We careened toward the trees.

“No!” I screamed.

The crash was deafening—a violent roar that shattered the air and sent shards of glass raining down. I felt the car crumple around us. A piece grazed my cheek, the sting barely registering beneath the roar of blood rushing in my ears.

The car became a blur of twisting metal and shattered glass as it rolled, tumbling end over end. My body was thrown violently from side to side, every crash slamming me harder against the seat belt. My ribs ached, my breath knocked out of me.

My head slammed into the window, pain exploding through my temple. The world spun out of control, my stomach dropping with each dizzying roll. I tasted blood, metallic and sharp, filling my mouth, my pulse pounding in my ears as we continued to tumble.

My body jerked again as the car made its final, jarring stop, tilted against the trees, the engine sputtering like it was gasping for breath.

For a moment, there was nothing but the eerie silence that followed. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning rubber and scorched metal. My lungs burned as I sucked in air, the taste of smoke and blood coating my throat.

I coughed violently, trying to focus, but my head was spinning, the dizziness pulling at me like gravity had doubled.

“Jennie!” I called. “Are you okay?”

I touched my head and I pulled my hand back to see it smeared with blood.

“Jennie!” I said again, turning to her.

She was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious.

I fumbled with my seat belt, my fingers numb and clumsy. The belt finally gave way, my hands trembling as I reached for the door handle, but before I could move, a sharp pain shot through my side. I winced, gritting my teeth against it.

I pushed the door open with all my strength, the metal creaking in resistance, and slid out, collapsing to the ground. I pushed myself up, and then I saw it.

The other car, speeding away.

I squinted through the haze. I couldn’t make out much, but a faded sticker caught my eye: a star peeling off the back window as it disappeared down the road.

The baby.

I rushed to the driver’s side, hands shaking as I yanked the door open. My fingers fumbled over the seat belt latch. Finally, the latch clicked. The belt slackened, but when I tried to pull Jennie free, the dashboard pressed her down, trapping her.

“Help!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the stillness. “Somebody, please help us!”

I pushed and pulled at the twisted metal, every movement sending jolts of pain through my body, but Jennie was there and faintly breathing. The smell of gasoline mingled with the smoke, and I knew we didn’t have much time

Luckily, the crash busted the trunk open, and among Jennie’s knickknacks lay a heavy metal tire iron. I wedged it between the dashboard and the wreckage and gritted my teeth, pushing down with all my strength.

The metal shrieked in protest, but I kept pushing, using every ounce of energy I had left.

With a final, desperate heave, the dashboard shifted enough to free Jennie’s legs.

Dropping the iron, I pulled her out, dragging her away from the car, and we collapsed onto the ground. My breath came in ragged gasps, but I needed to make sure Jennie was okay.

I forced myself to my knees, and I saw the blood between her legs.

Jennie needs to live. The baby needs to live.

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