Wendy

Chapter 1: The crash

Margret drummed long fingers on the steering wheel as she glared at the traffic light. She was certain it had been red for the last six minutes. Any day any time, she preferred traffic wardens; at least those were humans, you could give them a piece of your mind and expect a response. But how was one to yell at a traffic light?

She sighed. At this point, she was already beginning to think that maybe yelling might actually work. The hot Abuja sun was scotching her arms and the AC wasn't helping. Urgh! What made her take this accursed route?!

A tiny hand tapped her shoulder, forcing her to take her eyes off the infuriating traffic light.

"What is it, dear?" Margret tried hard not to let her frustration show in her voice. Her four-year-old daughter wasn't the reason she was having a bad day.

"Why does that man have no legs?"

Margret quickly looked in the direction her daughter was pointing. A double amputee beggar was sitting on the sidewalk. Margret allowed a tight smile and wondered why children had to ask so many questions; she could swear this was the thirtieth question Wendy had asked since she picked her from school only fifteen minutes ago.

"Maybe he had an accident." Margret hoped the answer satisfied her curiosity. Sadly, it didn't.

"What type of accident? Is it a bad accident?" Wendy's eyes were wide with expectation as she waited for an answer.

Margret released a heavy sigh then faced her daughter squarely. "Honey, can you store up all your questions and ask me later? Mummy's brain is super tired and it wants to rest."

"How do you know your bwain is tired?" Wendy still couldn't pronounce 'brain' properly. "Will mine get tired too?" Wendy's eyes widened as she asked.

"Didn't I just..." Margret's reply was cut short by the blaring of several horns. At last, the green light had come on. She noticed in dismay that the several cars in front of her had already driven off, now angry drivers were yelling at her as they drove past.

As she stepped on the accelerator pedal, she hoped she'll pass before the light turned red again. She didn't bother checking for cars as she drove past the T-junction and clicked on her trafficator.

Almost immediately, another car speeding from the right rammed into theirs with such force that for a second Margret believed she was airborne. Then like a person trapped in a horrible nightmare, their car spun crazily as the sound of screeching tires filled the air.

Her terrified scream was silenced by the force of the airbag; it pressed against her face, trapping her screams and suffocating her at the same time. She was jarred by a sharp pain that tore at the nape of her neck. Flailing her hands in a panic, she pushed at the airbag, desperate for air and wanting to look at her daughter.

Wendy. God, Wendy.

Her head bobbed crazily as another car hit theirs from behind. This time, she was certain they were airborne because their car was somersaulting.

For a brief moment, in the midst of the crashing and banging, she managed to glance at Wendy. Her heart stopped at the sight; her four-year-old was strapped to her seat, pressed by the airbag and limp as a rag-doll.

At last, the car landed on its roof. Blood slid from her mouth into her hairline. Pain pulsed all over. The air was thick with the smell of burning rubber on asphalt and more sounds of screeching tires. Then she started hearing voices, mostly exclamations. She heard someone open the car door. Hands dragged her out of the vehicle.

"My baby..." she whispered, unable to find her voice. They made her lie on her back and someone fanned her with a shirt. From the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of her car, it looked like it had been hit by a train. Her heart sank even more as her eyes swept the scene; there was a trail of blood that stained the tarred road. Whose blood was it? Was she dreaming? Is this even real?

She tried to seat up, wincing at a sharp pain at her side. She shrugged off the hands that tried to push her back to the ground.

"Where is my daughter?" she asked, voice ragged and slightly hysterical. She managed to get to her feet, stifling the pain as she limped towards the wrecked car.

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First work here.
CHRISTIAN themed.
I hope you'll like it.