Safe

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

17 minutes after the accident. 

Chaos. Absolute chaos. That's the only way I know how to describe the elements around me. I try to look around, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed - with fear or with injury - I'm not entirely sure yet. In a desperate attempt to analyze the situation, I open my eyes. Blood. Metal. Dirt. People. I think to myself. That's all I can see from where I lie. Everything's a blur, and I'm beginning to feel lightheaded. I close my eyes in a feeble attempt to make the feeling stop.

"Ma'am? Ma'am! Can you hear me? If you can hear me, open your eyes!"

I open my eyes. A man in a white uniform is looking at me. Amidst the chaos, I can't make out another word he says. All I know is he's trying to speak, but I can't hear any of it. I close my eyes again, and try to focus. It’s no use. The sounds and the images have all morphed together, and trying to focus won’t help. I open my eyes once more and take in the scene around me. It’s much like a scene from a silent movie. I no longer hear any sounds, but I can see everything. I can see the blood. I can see the people. But I can’t feel anything. Here I am, lying on the ground, surrounded by people trying to help me, and I can’t feel a god damn thing; physically or emotionally.

I think back to how I got here. As much as I don’t want to remember, I do. I remember is his face. The look of sorrow, despair, desolation; the way his eyes filled with tears as I slammed the door. The way he begged and pleaded for me to stay, for just a bit longer. Maybe if I had listened to him, I wouldn’t be here, in this situation, feeling like this. But none of that mattered. I was here. And I never wanted to see him again. 

Niall was leaving. Corey was dead. And I was nearly dead now, too. I can't feel a thing on my body - I'm not even sure if my legs are still there. I'm not sure if any of my limbs are still there, for that matter. I try and move my head to see, but I can't. My body has gone into shock now, and my brain has, too. I learned about this in psychology in college - the "fight or flight" reaction that is an automatic response from your body in times of crisis. Apparently, my body has chosen to fight, because I'm still alive. 

The sounds around me are all still blurring together. I try and focus on what one man is saying to another man in a white uniform. 

"Did you get the other drivers?" 

"The first one is lodged underneath his car. The whole damn thing flipped over. If we move him, he'll bleed out and die. We've called for an airlift, and we can't move him until then. We managed to pull out the passenger of that car." How many more drivers were there? I keep trying to listen. "The other driver is being put on the stretcher now. I can't believe how lucky he got. He hit the girl head on and is only coming away with a few scratches." I see the man lower his head and shake it. "Why do people drive when they're drunk?"

"Let's just do everything we can to make sure this one lives." 

I know they're talking about me. I know I may not survive. I don't know what my chances are, but based on how these people are acting, slim-to-none is probably a good bet. 

"Have we figured out how to get the girl out yet?"

"We're still trying to figure that out, but we're racing against the clock here." At that moment, they both  turn to look at me. They see my eyes open and rush over to me. "Ma'am, can you hear me? What is your name, ma'am?"

I stare blankly at them. As I try to open my mouth I can taste the blood and gravel inside of it. Or maybe those were my teeth. I couldn't be sure. "Kat." I choke out to them.

"Okay, Kat, we're going to do everything we can to get you out of there. It's very important that you lay perfectly still, Kat. Do you understand me? Blink if you understand what I'm saying to you."