"Let's play a game, shall we?" the voice slurred from the radio. "It's simple really, just try to find me someone."
:::
Everyone gets stuck in traffic
There isn't one sane person in the world that has not experienced traffic in their life.
We all k...
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COLE'S P.O.V
Date - March 25th Remaining hours - 4
I rushed again into the highway, but I didn't feel that rush of adrenaline anymore. The lives of everyone here depended on me, and if I didn't get this right, then I would not only kill five girls, I would also kill myself.
The feeling of seeing someone die in front of you was just too much, it's like you're carving yourself a hole in your memory. That feeling will never go away.
What's worse was the feeling that that person died because of you, and the images and helplessness you felt is just all over you and you could never shake off.
And I might have to face that feeling once more.
I looked down at my watch, the time ticking as it slowly decreased from the previous five, leaving me with four.
Four more hours to find the missing girl.
I scanned again through the shiny hoods of the metal cars, all glaring back at me with accusation. I stared at them, at all the lives that lived inside those iron bodies, and the amount of victims it will be if I didn't do it.
The thought of the bomb scared me, but in my head, I thought of something, why would 'The Man' blow up the entire highway when his 'girl' is in the midst of them? It was all against rationality, but I found myself not taking that risk.
With heavy feet I slunk my way through the cars, looking with childlike amazement at the effect of time stopping could do; halting the picture perfect moment of that special someone's smile, stopping an argument for just a moment, witnessing glorious victories of your favorite soccer team, and even save someone from crashing against a truck that would result to his death.
Guilt filled me once more, suddenly passing by the car with the broken window and millions of glass sprinkles lying on the road, the door wide open, the pretty passenger missing.
With a sob I cried, cried for the poor mother who was missing her daughter, cried for the poor driver who might not be able to cope with the experience, cried for her future gone from just one mistake that she didn't even make.
All because of me.
I looked out from my puffy lids to see a piece of protruding dented metal that had a sharp end, from which I wasn't entirely sure of its origin. I thought of myself skewered through it, thought of the other possible ways for me to prevent other's deaths.
What if I'm the one who died?
I shook my head to dismiss those thoughts. It won't do me nor anyone good, I thought to myself.
It won't, I reminded myself once more, again my eyes trailing back to the sharp metal.
Promise? that little voice cooed in my head, instantly bringing me back to utter guilt and anger. Who was I to take my own life, which could risk the lives of others? There would not be three funerals that day, and I was determined to make sure of it.
