Page 74 of Shaken

Speaking of music, I turn the volume of the radio up to drown out the sound of the ice hitting my car, then scream and cut the wheel as hard as I can to avoid the lights coming right at me.

I feel the moment I lose control on the slick road and scream again as my muscles lock up with fear.

Oh, God. I’m going to hit a tree.

It’s not like in the movies.

Nothing about this is in slow-motion or quiet.

The lights fly by me at warp speed as my car spins out, then slams into a tree.

A sickening crunch makes my stomach turn, just before the driver’s side door bends in against me and my head slams into the side window.

Pain explodes in my shoulder and my head.

I can’t think straight.

Everything hurts.

Where’s my phone?

I blink my eyes, and something drips down my face.

I touch it with the tips of my fingers.

Oh shit. That’s blood.

“Wren... Wren... Shit, Wren.”

I swing my head around and think I’m going to throw up. Then somebody tries to open the passenger door.

“Jace?” This can’t be right. “Jace?” I ask again. I try to unbuckle my seat belt and scream out in pain.

“Don’t move, Wren.” He yanks on the door again, but it still doesn’t open. “Shit, Wren. I can’t get it open.”

“Call 911, Jace.” I’m getting dizzy and feel myself being tugged under.

“Oh God, Wren. I’m sorry.”

It’s the last thing I hear before I close my eyes... just for a minute.

Just until the world stops spinning.

“Sweetheart. Oh, Wren. Wake up, honey.”

Why is her voice so loud?

“Give her space, Charlotte. If she opens her eyes and you’re that close, you’ll scare her to death.” Dad’s voice isn’t any better as it bounces around in my head, like a pinball pinging around the machine.

“Don’t be dramatic, Brent. Which one of us is the doctor? It certainly isn’t you,” my mother chastises my father in a huff.

I force my eyes open, then slam them shut as the harsh light turns my head to Swiss cheese. “You bring babies into the world, Mom. Don’t know if that’s a great argument,” I rasp out over a very dry throat. “Where am I?”

“Oh, Wren.” Mom’s voice trembles and my heart thunders in my chest. “Can you tell us what happened, Wren?”

“She slid on ice, Charlotte,” Dad chastises, then takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles.

“Please... stop fighting.” I try to sit up, but the room spins, and my father gently guides me back against the bed. “Or at least argue quieter. My head hurts.”

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