Because of the Accident (Book 1)

Chapter 2

The hospital doors swung shut behind me, and with them, it felt like the entire world had slammed in my face. The air outside was cold and wet, the sky dark and heavy with rainclouds that had finally burst. Each drop that landed on my skin felt like a pinprick, sharp and unrelenting, like reality was trying to wake me up from a nightmare that I couldn't escape. I quickened my pace, almost running toward my car. I couldn't stay in that place another second. My thoughts were spiraling too fast for me to keep up with, crashing into each other like waves in a storm. Autumn was gone. The baby—*our* baby—was still alive.

How the hell was I supposed to deal with that?

My body felt like it was moving on autopilot, every action mechanical and disconnected from the whirlwind inside me. I yanked open the car door and collapsed into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. My heart pounded in my chest, thudding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My mind was a whirlwind of questions with no answers, responsibilities I didn't know how to handle, and a grief that felt too big for my body to contain.

For a long moment, I just sat there, staring at the dashboard, unable to decide what to do next. Start the car? Go back inside? Drive somewhere—anywhere—and disappear? My breath came in ragged gasps, and I felt like I was suffocating, the walls of the car pressing in on me. My head was pounding, and my vision blurred slightly at the edges as if the whole world was closing in. The suffocating air in the car made it feel like the world was closing in on me. I rolled down the window, letting the cold rain spatter my face, hoping it would bring me some clarity. But all it did was remind me of the enormity of what I'd just walked away from.

Autumn was dead. I said the words again in my mind, hoping that maybe this time, they wouldn't feel real. Maybe if I repeated it enough, I could convince myself that I'd misunderstood, that I was still trapped in some bizarre dream and that I'd wake up any second now. But I knew, deep down, that wasn't true.

A dull ache bloomed in my chest, spreading outwards until my entire body felt heavy with the weight of loss. I couldn't even cry. I wanted to, needed to, but it was like my body didn't know how to process the pain anymore. It was too much. Too sudden.

And the baby... God, the baby. I hadn't even known she was pregnant. What kind of father was I supposed to be when I didn't even know? When the first I heard of my child's existence was after Autumn had already gone?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of neon light through the rain-splattered windshield. A bar. Hall's Mini Bar—the name was barely visible through the steady downpour, but it called to me like a beacon.

"Why not?" I muttered to myself, the words coming out like a challenge. "It's not like I have anything left to lose."

I flung the car door open and stepped out, pulling my jacket tighter against the rain. The cold droplets soaked through the thin fabric almost immediately, but I barely noticed.

As I trudged across the slick pavement toward the bar, the rain intensified, drumming against the ground in a relentless rhythm. Each step felt heavier than the last, like the weight of my grief and guilt had settled into my bones.  Although, the alcohol would take care of that soon enough.

My shoes splashed through shallow puddles, and the water soaked through my socks, but I didn't care. I just needed something—anything—to make me feel different. I needed to drown the storm inside me with something stronger.

By the time I reached the door, I was drenched, my hair plastered to my forehead and water dripping down my face. The cold bit into me, but it couldn't numb the pain.

I pushed open the door to the bar, and the warm, stuffy air hit me like a wall. The place was dimly lit, with a haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air and the soft hum of conversation filling the space. The scent of cheap beer and fried food hung heavy, almost suffocating in contrast to the cool, fresh air outside. I blinked, disoriented for a second by the sudden change in atmosphere. The room spun slightly from the overwhelming emotions that had been clashing inside me all day.