Page 2 of Born to Run Back
And staring back at me, horror in his sad blue eyes, was the twin to my aching loneliness. The man with the med kit, his hands making quick work of stopping the bleeding, face determined, expression raw with—fear.
The situation scared him as much as it scared me. I was just a regular person, and from the looks of it, so was he. Neither of us was equipped for this. For the brutality of it. The stench, the raw open wounds of terror and pain, shredding my sanity to pieces.
It was almost unbearable. Almost.
The man and I worked together without talking, moving as if we’d somehow done this before, as if opportunities to help young college kids in major car accidents presented themselves often. I held Delaney’s hand through the broken window while he did what little he could for the guy, for Beck. The rain turned to mist, but I don’t think either of us noticed until much later. There was only this moment, this terrible intimacy of being the first ones to witness a tragedy.
What I didn’t know was that it was the beginning of the end for me, too.
Then the paramedics arrived, their equipment loud, their voices urgent. The man and I faded back, watching as the professionals took over. Jaws of life, backboards, radio chatter. All the machinery of rescue.
We sat on what remained of an upright part of the guardrail while a tow truck pulled the sporty white BMW up from the ravine. The road crew swept glass from the asphalt, and through all of it, we didn’t speak a word. Until—
“Don’t look,” he said from beside me, his voice deep, low. Distressed.
I didn’t listen. I turned my head, and watched in horror as the police zipped up a body bag—Beck. He’d been alive what felt like only a moment ago, moaning in agony, eyes shut tight as if none of it would be real if he didn’t see it.
But nothing could stop him from bleeding out. And now he was gone, this young kid who’d had his whole life ahead of him.
Delaney’s harrowing cries pierced the night air as paramedics lifted her stretcher into the ambulance. Then she was gone, too.
Whatever composure I’d maintained up until then shattered. Tears streaked down my cheeks, hidden easily in the rain, but nothing could hide the hideous noises clawing their way out of my throat.
It wasn’t fair.
He was just a kid.
It wasn’t fucking fair.
Movement beside me, a dark jacket glistening in the mist, and a large, calloused hand—grabbing my wrist, yanking me to my feet. Before I could protest, before I could ask what the hell his problem was, he pulled me into the heat of his blazing embrace.
My heart thawed,melting.
Theo
I had already known how this would end, had felt the sluggish thrum of his pulse, had heard the sound his chest had made, had seen the blood up close.
So. Much. Fucking. Blood.
The kid was dying, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it. Not a goddamn thing.
So, I’d known, and was perhaps partially prepared for that body bag in the street—but the woman beside me was not. Her cry was somehow worse than those kids’ and that made no sense to me. Itshouldn’tbe worse, but it was. As if the last bit of support that was holding me up had suddenly shattered, and now all I could do was fall.
But I wouldn’t fall. I refused.
Without thinking, I stood, my eyes stinging, my chest constricting so tight it was a wonder I didn’t stumble, and yanked her to her feet, wordlessly pulling her into my arms. One arm around her shoulders, my hand slipping carelessly into her thick dark hair. She smelled like rain, like the gale, like a hailstorm that could come crashing down on my head—by my guess, a five-foot-four force of nature. And I smelled something else, something sweet. Vanilla, maybe.
She was so much shorter than me, her frame slighter than I’d realized down in the ravine. The way she’d stopped to help, comforting that girl—well, she may as well have been a giant. But in reality, she was both small and solid at the same time. She buried her face in my chest and sobbed.
I let her.
“I know,” I whispered, though I didn’t know anything except holding her in that moment felt necessary, felt right.
She didn’t pull away. She could’ve, probably should’ve, but she didn’t.
Wendy
We stayed standing there, clinging to one another.
