28 DAYS STUCK TOGETHER

CHAPTER 2 ❀

❀ Jackson's point of view ❀

 

Pain.

It's the first thing I register, radiating through my body like a fire I can't put out. 

My ribs ache, every breath shallow and labored, sending sharp shocks of agony through my chest. My head feels heavy, throbbing with a dull, persistent pulse. For a moment, I'm not even sure I'm awake. Everything is hazy, disjointed.

Where am I?

I try to move, but my muscles don't respond the way they should. There's a weight pressing me down, holding me in place. Slowly, painfully, I force my eyes open. But the world around me is a blur of colors and shapes. 

It takes a few moments for things to sharpen, but even then, nothing makes sense. I'm lying on the ground—hard, uneven. Dirt. Trees. Something metallic and twisted is nearby, reflecting the fading light. The smell of smoke hits me hard, mixed with something else—something sharp and bitter.

Fuel.

My throat tightens, my lungs fighting for clean air.

Then it all comes rushing back. The plane. The engines. The birds. The crash.

Holy shit.

Panic surges through me, scrambling my thoughts into a chaotic mess. 

My body tries to bolt upright, but the pain flares up so intensely that I nearly black out again. 

I lie there, frozen, gasping for breath as the ache pulses through every inch of me. My head spins, everything around me still a blur of shapes and sounds. The plane went down. We were falling... spiraling out of control.

Isabella.

Her name hits me like a freight train, ripping through the fog of pain and confusion. 

Isabella, my ex-fiancée. The one woman I thought I'd never see again. The one woman I thought I'd finally gotten over.

For two years, I've carried this anger toward her, this burning resentment for walking out of my life without a second glance. But right now, none of that matters.

Is she alive?

The question rings in my head, over and over, louder than the pounding in my skull. I can't let myself think about it— no, I won't— let myself consider the alternative. She has to be alive.

Forcing my body to move feels like dragging myself through broken glass. The pain in my chest intensifies as I roll onto my side, but I push through it. 

My fingers dig into the dirt, trembling as I haul myself up onto my knees. The world around me tilts dangerously. I clench my fists, grounding myself, fighting to stay upright.

But I don't have time for this. I need to find her. Now.

"Isabella!" I shout, my voice raw, hoarse. "Isabella!"

No answer.

My heart hammers in my chest as I struggle to stand, my legs barely holding me up. I'm surrounded by wreckage—twisted metal, broken seats, debris scattered everywhere. Smoke rises in thick plumes from what's left of the plane, and the air is thick with the stench of burning fuel.