Page 75 of Seduction

Glass shattering, the sound of tires screeching, the crunch of metal, the impact, Ollie’s scream—

I jostle awake and wipe what I assume is blood from my eyes, doing a quick body check to ensure nothing vital is broken or punctured. When I feel ok. I turn to check on Ollie.

Only he’s not there.

The panic sets back in as I start thinking back to the crash.

Something hit us, running us off the road, Ollie screaming…it’s all I remember.

I try to move, screaming his name as I frantically look around the inside of our broken car, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep and controlling breath, I close my eyes and think. How can I get out of this?

Reaching into my jeans pocket, I pull out my knife and cut the seatbelt off since I can’t get the fucking thing to unlock, and drop down to the ceiling, bracing my arms above me so I don’t hit my head.

Fuck that still hurt. Shaking myself off, I scramble through broken glass to get out the car.

The car landing on the hood was both a blessing and a curse as I slowly crawl through the broken driver’s side window.

The smell of gasoline is strong, overriding my senses and it only makes me more anxious to find Ollie. We need to get a comfortable distance from the wreck before this bitch blows up.

The snow and bitter night air offer no comfort. The clouds are heavy with an incoming storm, blocking the moons guidance when I need it the most. I have no flashlight or anything on me to help me see. I don’t even know where the fuck we are, aside from somewhere on the highway.

“OLLIE! Ollie, answer me!” I yell, cutting circles and making myself dizzy, yet the blackness gives me nothing in return. I’m still blanketed in darkness. “Ollie, please!” I beg. To whom, I don’t know, but I have to find my brother. I will not leave him.

I hear a car approaching and know I’m running out of time to find Ollie and get us to safety. The devil that created us is not claiming our souls back on my watch.

Fuck, the smell of gasoline is worse as I continue to move around the car, praying to whomever will listen that I find him alive.

“OLLIE!!” I scream, taking off into the brush and tripping over my own feet as they get tangled up in the snow, throwing my arms out in hope that I can find some clue to where he was thrown from the car.

I can’t call for help because I can’t find my fucking phone, which means it’s a part of the broken mess behind me.

I hear car tires screech to a halt, and I freeze, listening to the car doors slam as orders are given out to find us.

Fuck! I’m running out of time. I unknowingly entered a time challenge against the devil that will stop at nothing to take us out.

I just know that my girl will feel our loss for the remainder of her days if we don’t make it through this alive.

We fucking have to.

I scramble, swiping my hands back and forth in the snow and just as my hope fades away, my hand finally connects with a boot. I move fast, checking over the area surrounding me, but my heart drops when I realize it’s not attached to anything.

Fuck, Ollie! Where are you?!

I swipe my hand again just as a flashlight hits my line of vision. A pool of blood in the snow where I found the boot is the only thing I’m offered before the night claims my sight again.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.

Think, you motherfucker. Think!

The crunch of feet on snow fills my ears, and I know my time is up. It’s time to fight for both our lives, because there’s no doubt in my mind these assholes want us dead and buried before the sun comes up.

“You two, over there. You, come with me this way. They can’t be far. The boss wants these fuckers with toe tags within the hour or we will be taking their place,” some asshole yells out, confirming my suspicions.

I pat my coat and pants pockets, desperately searching for something other than my knife because in my rush to get out the car and find Ollie, I left my piece behind in the glove compartment. I never wear it on me while driving, and I swear to fuck if we make it out of this alive, I will never be apart from it again.

My fingers strike gold as I latch onto a lighter stored in my coat from lighting the fireplace a while back, and a plan forms in my head as I spring into action.

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