10 SECONDS

1.

Hello Wattpaders!!! Chanelle here. So this is my new story and I must start off by saying that I really hope you guys enjoy it. I'll appreciate any comments (keep them clean please), votes and story additions, but that's your decision. Let me know what you think! Also, new chapter update coming tomorrow.

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I never liked these sorts of things. I swerve to the side as a drunken eighteen-year-old wearing nothing but unicorn boxers stagger to the bathroom, spilling his red plastic cup filled with booze all over the not-so-white carpet. I clench my jaw, hoping to find the devil who brought me here so that I can return to my apartment safely and study for my Physiology exam in one weeks' time.

My eyes catch her body moving swiftly between two bodies of persons who I don't know. Her hair is knotted at the end and sticks to the side of her face, giving me the impression that she's stone cold drunk. Her feet move in sync with the bass blasting from the speakers in the living room. Annoyed and possibly very angry, I push away the stool I was sitting on and storm into the war of wet bodies grinding on each other until I lace my fingers around her arm and pull her clear of the wreckage.

"Haley!" she exclaims, "I was becoming friends with Bob!" she points to the guy who smirks at her, beer tainting his white shirt a disgusting shade of yellow. Looks like Bobby has found another girl to party with because he doesn't hesitate to grab another by the waist and pull her towards him. Gina's face sinks in when she sees him and her lips do this adorable thing when she's given up and disappointed. She's a helpless romantic, a simple smile in her direction and she'll fall head over heels in love with you.

"We gotta go!" I scream over the energetic electronic music in the background.

I have to drag her slumped figure out the door where a couple is making out quite savagely. This isn't her usual behaviour. Gina is always the quiet one, guess that's why a boy in the same room with her gets her all tensed up. I place an arm around her, the other searching through my lame excuse of a bag to grab my phone and car keys. I let her lean on the door while I open it for her, almost pushing her inside and buckling her seat belt before following suit and turning on the ignition. The car roars to life, a sound I love to hear, the radio blasts my favorite eighties tunes in low volume and a wave of cold air diffuses into the hot leather seats. Even at night the summer heat is unbearable.

My phone buzzes between the seats. Instantly I answer the call, already knowing who it is. A sudden chill is sent through my body every time I hear his voice. It's soft and gentle but can get demanding and harsh when pushed too far. I relax for a couple seconds, and forget why I was angry at Gina for getting drunk and instead focus on his voice. The one person who has helped me through these hard nights of studying and reassuring me anytime I thought I was going to fail an exam. The one person who has never left my side even though he knows what happened to my family, my dark past that lurks over me like a ghost.

"So how was it? Did you miss my presence?" he asks. Not to mention the overly cocky side of him.

"Not one bit." I snicker at him. I feel his lips form into a thin smile.

"Gina?"

"Passed out drunk. I'll be there in a few, I have to drop her off first. Not to mention, physiology to start," I let out a sigh of frustration.

"I'll be waiting right here," he replies.

"Good, but tell your side chick to leave before I arrive,"

What follows after is a few minutes of laughter before I set the phone down and pull out into the street. Sam and I rent an apartment five minutes away from the university, the dorms were too expensive for us and the last thing I wanted was to ask my parents for the money to stay in one. I rather work in-between classes to pay for rent and collage. Sam helps out a lot, we split the money for the apartment and both have jobs at campus. He spends most of his time stuck in a little radio booth that plays eighties rock and modern pop around campus while I serve coffee and tea in a little shop just a couple minutes away from his booth. A quarter of his tuition is being paid for by the collage due to his impressive grades, which means he gives the extra 'umph' when it comes to rent.

Sometimes I think he's too perfect for me. The way his dark brown hair swings freely in his face and jaw structure is more defined than my family life. Not to mention his perfect grades and the way he's so fluent in his language, it almost makes me kind of jealous.

I take my mind off of him and focus on driving instead. I got my licence two years ago, the moment I turned sixteen, and passed with flying colours. I love driving, especially with the windows down and the music turned up. It provides me with a sense of independence, I feel like all my problems can die away as the wind takes it. But tonight, the windows remain up and a drunken girl moans in her sleep in the passenger seat. For a moment I'm glad she left her apartment key with me, even though there's this gut feeling I have, telling me to take her to my apartment instead. I can't trust her alone tonight.

Her roommate, Chelsea, is currently taking temporary night classes since her job is only offered in the day, so for the rest of the semester Gina is forced to spend her nights alone in an empty apartment. I settle for that, I'll take Gina with me instead, Sam would be okay with that. There's a spare bedroom down the hall, originally intended for me but I don't use it. Why would I when I have a warm body to sleep next to? Even though most nights are spent awake, finishing reports or studying, even though finals are far, Sam and I both have a reputation to keep. Our 'love' life must not get in the way of that.

The street lights cast shadows on her face as I drive past them, ensuring to keep within the speed limit for the area. The night is practically dead, one or two cars filter in an out of my lane but most house lights are off and the side walk is free of pedestrians. It makes me pay more attention to the road, checking my distance from the curb and the car in front of me and occasionally adjusting Gina's head so she doesn't awaken with a stiff muscle. Home is just ten minutes away if I keep at this speed.

Gently I apply pressure to the brake until my red Volvo is at a complete stop at the intersection. Left takes me to Gina's. Right takes me home. By home I'm referring to our apartment. But in my book, home is the word used to describe a place you are comfortable in, a place where the people you love exist, and that place is my little tiny apartment with Sam, not the place I grew up in Alabama. The problem is not with the state, but rather with one particular house in a little village there. Alabama itself is a wonderful place to be.

I've always had this habit, to randomly count down the time it takes to complete a task. Not just trying to clean my room before the microwave starts beeping, or washing the dishes before the refrigerator door can close shut, but rather counting down the last ten seconds of a boring history class or the last ten seconds it takes for the current traffic light to turn green. I even counted the last ten seconds that Sam was still in the 'friend zone.' The red light swiftly changes to green and I remove my foot from the brake, jolting the car back to life and turning the steering wheel to the right. That's when everything goes down to hell. Then I start counting.

Second 1: I pull the car out of sleep mode and begin to drive.

Second 2: I swerve to the right, ensuring the cars on either side have come to a complete stop.

Second 3: Gina falls against the door with the sudden motion, hitting her head with a loud thump but remaining fully asleep.

Second 4: I take one hand off the steering while tightening my grip with the other and keeping my eyes on the road.

Second 5: My hand grabs her shirt and pulls her back into position.

Second 6: I'm almost clear of the intersection.

Second 7: Repetitive honking of a truck's horn and flashing white lights come from the vehicle, unable to stop in time.

Second 8: It collides with the car in front it, rolling it over and continues forward in my direction.

Second 9: I know what's coming. The light is on me know as I swerve to the left, preventing Gina from being hit directly in the centre.

Second 10: A few millimetres lie between the hood of my Volvo and the truck. Then I know nothing....