Page 10 of Lips of an Angel

Finally, Austin admitted it: He’d snuck ecstasy before meeting up with us, and hereallyshouldn’t have been behind the wheel.

“I want to go home,” I cried.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

My hands shook. I couldn’t breathe. The noise in the car was too much. The too-loud music, everyone shouting over each other.

Austin was screaming now. The car jerked back and forth.

Then it happened.

The screech of the tires on asphalt, the sickening crunch of metal.

The world rolled, and I felt a crack.

My whole world went dark.

Chapter 5

RALEIGH

Ah,the joys of being woken up by a fist to the kidney.

I was so accustomed to it by now that I was still half asleep when my hand snapped up to capture Angel’s fist, millimeters from my nose. He was crying out in his sleep again. His face contorted as his fists pummeled anything he could get his hands on. I knew from past experience that rousing him could be dangerous, but seeing him in distress and knowing I could end it outweighed the consequences.

“Angel!”

Nothing. He was deep in the nightmare.

“Angel, it’s me. It’s Raleigh.”

I grabbed the free hand swinging in my direction and pinned both to the mattress, trapping his legs with one of my knees so I wouldn’t get kicked for my trouble.

“Angel, you need to wake up!”

With that last shout, Angel’s bright blue eyes finally shot open. He attempted to sit, but I had him utterly restrained.

“It’s me,” I repeated in a soft voice. I released one of his hands so I could brush his sweaty blond hair away from his forehead. “It’s okay.”

Angel’s eyes darted around the room. He pushed at my hand, signaling to me that it was safe to let him go.

“Same dream?” I asked.

He nodded. “I felt the crack this time.”

He blinked tears away, rubbing the back of his neck as he fought to catch his breath.

I flipped on the lamp and grabbed the glass of water I kept on my nightstand. “You’re safe. You know that, right?”

Angel took the drink with one hand and signed “I know” with the other. After draining the glass, he handed it back to me. “But I’ll never forget the night they died.”

My heart sank. None of us had been wearing seatbelts that night. By the time we realized something was wrong, it had been too late. Austin hit his head on the steering wheel; Sarah was thrown from the car. They both died on impact. Angel flew out of my lap and hit the roof of the car. When the vehicle had finally rolled to a stop, I knew we needed to get out—I smelled gas. I pulled myself out of the broken window and dragged Angel with me. At the time, I didn’t realize his neck was broken. It didn’t matter, though, I’d make the same decision time and time again. Before I could go back for the other two, the car burst into flames. Sitting in the bed next to Angel, I swore I could still feel the heat. I’d developed a crippling fear of fire after that night.

I vaguely remember seeing a battered minivan facing the wrong way on the highway. Traffic had stopped, people abandoning their cars to help.

I was lucky: I got away with minor scrapes and bruises. They monitored me for brain bleeds for a few days after, but I was fine. The other two other guys in the back seat were pulled from the fire, but they died the same night in the hospital.

By all accounts, Angel should have joined them in death. When the car crashed, the ligaments holding his skull to his spine snapped—something called an internal decapitation. A fatal injury. But he didn’t die.

---