Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My heart was in my throat by the time I reached the source of the smoke, the pulse at my neck feeling detached, like a butterfly's fragile wings fluttering.
I pushed myself out of the car, not even bothering to close the door before I got out. Before me, laid out like a backdrop from a video game, was a horrific site.
Fire.
Flames ate up the red exterior of the car that had been turned on its back, having done a one-eighty because of the force of whatever it had hit. The Ford's top was on the ground, the door to the driver's seat torn half-open, hanging away from the seat and creaking as it oscillated on whatever was left of its hinges. The bright orange light from the fire was the only thing illuminating the area around the crash, the rest of the road bathed in light.
Taeyong's car had veered dangerously off-course, probably skidded a significant distance before toppling over. I couldn't see him, but the smell was nauseating, gasoline and fire making me feel like I was choking even from this distance.
In the distance, I could hear the screech of sirens, but I didn't know if they were going to make it in time.
My hands trembled as I took a step forward, but hesitated. Fire. Out of everything that could've happened, I had to face my worst fear on the night that was supposed to be my best.
Before I could stop them, memories from the crash I had been in with Yoongi rose up in my mind, cutting off the supply of air. All of a sudden, I was in the car again, blood on my hands, a person's bloody corpse in the seat next to mine.
And flames.
Everywhere.
With difficulty, I pulled myself away from the semi-hallucination. I was desperate to get Taeyong out of the car, but my fear held me back. The trauma of the incident had scraped away any bravery I had managed to gather in the drive here, and I was achingly alone, and there was a high probability that no one was coming after me.
Every sense in my body was screaming at me to turn, to leave, to run.
A flash of inspiration hit me, and I turned to grab my phone—just before realizing that I'd left it behind so that I wouldn't be distracted during the race. I closed my eyes and let out every curse word I could think of. It seemed that cruel fate wanted to laugh at me today.
You have to do this alone.
With shaking fingers, I grasped the neck of my t-shirt and lifted it over my mouth and nose, covering half of my face. I had sweat through the neck of the cloth, and hoped that the sweat itself would be able to provide me some protection from the funes exhaled by the fire. Taking off my jacket, I made my way headfirst into the flames.
All around me was orange and yellow, the excessive heat making my chest heaved under the t-shirt. My eyes watered as I crouched down next to the driver's seat, clutching the jacket and trying not to touch anything that would result in second or third-degree burns.
