Get Out If You Can

No One Cried Murder

The minute Caitlyn raced off after the car that was supposedly Derek's was the minute that marked the beginning of everything.

And she knew that.

The car rumbled awkwardly down the hill, skidding too fast – way too fast – for her liking in many places. She didn't let it bother her – she'd got it fixed up just a week ago. Well, Hunter could've messed things up – but she didn't think too much of that. Hunter was a good person. He wasn't buyable.

Or was he? She didn't know for sure. Either way, he didn't take much care of the spare keys his customers trusted him with. Someone must've swiped them and messed her car up. Or, maybe, someone had spilled some sort of liquid on the road or something. Besides, it was winter. There was snow. Snow was slippery.

Caitlyn thought the car was doing okay — for now, at least. But 'now' doesn't last that long.

When the car took a drastic skid, almost toppling over when it slid off the road – she couldn't deny something was wrong. Kari's yelling in the backseat was the only thing she could hear, and the smooth swerve of Derek's taillights were the only things she could see as the car did one final skid – and then swerved completely off the path.

The world blurred before her eyes as glass broke and her sister yelled. She yelled Kari's name back. She wanted to yell at her, tell her that she loved her – if this was her last chance to do so. The car went on taking its own path, now skidding through someplace completely off the main path. Caitlyn could see trees. She slammed on the brakes, slammed as hard as she could – but if that move had any outcome, it would be making the car swerve even more than when it started.

Someone messed her car up.

She felt in her pocket for her phone and her recorder, Kari's hysterical yells ringing her eardrums – and then she made a move. A good move? A bad move? Depends on how you see it.

Her palms left the wheel. She stuffed the things in her bag, aware of the car's madness. After doing that, she twisted her body – somehow – to face Kari.

"Get out," she croaked. "Go. Your door's unlocked – hold on to a – aaah!" She was pushed to one side, causing her forehead to strike some sharp part of the car. She felt blood, but no pain. She leaned over and wrenched out the keys from their slot. "Hold on to a branch and save yourself!" she yelled at Kari, who was crying. "GO!"

"I can't leave you, Cait, you go first –"

"KARI, DO YOU HEAR ME? GO! NOW – AAAH!"

There was a splash of water.

There was a long, lingering scream — or maybe two.

And then, there was fire.

***

Somewhere on the bank of the lake, a girl wiped her tears, tossing the matchbox she'd just used out into the flames. She'd used all of them as a precaution, after the gasoline on the car tires and on the road. Her tears intensified as she watched the car go up in flames. All her doing, of course – she should be proud. But she wasn't. She couldn't bear to look. She turned away, the heat blazing her back; the cold freezing her face. She knelt on the snow, letting it numb her knees. She watched as her tears fell, one by one.

She could regret it all she wanted now. She was allowed that one emotion.

But can you change what you have done?