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This couldn't be happening. Danielle had never got into anything like this before. Not even when she thought that rebelling was just something teenagers do. She limped from the wreckage, her ribs ultimately bruised— maybe even broken. Her intakes of air were ragged, painful. Blood coated the left side of her face that had collided with the dashboard. Her skull felt as if it was splitting apart, an axe wedging the structure further away. Her glossy eyes focused on the flickering flame seeping through the bent hood of Darren's totaled car.
She could still see his dead, filmy eyes staring back at her as she awoken. His mouth hung agape, his teeth stained red. She had misplaced her purse within the wreckage. She thought that it could have been pinned beneath of seat, or between her seat and the center, but she couldn't bring herself to look. She couldn't force herself the search the fuming vehicle that held her dead boyfriend, his head still pressed against the smashed glass. Her chest felt hollow. She couldn't breathe. She stared back at the car in absolute shock.
In that moment, she wanted her father. She hugged her chest in an attempt to hold herself together. Her knees wobbled beneath her. The air was beginning to smell as the flames rose, licking at his still warm flesh. She covered her nose with her trembling hand, trying her best to block out the images. There was no way she could have predicted this. There was absolutely no way. Her heel caught within the damp earth, sending the girl reeling backwards. As she landed onto the grass, she noticed the strong smell wafting around her. The wetness staining her legs, clothes, and hands was gasoline.
With pure adrenaline racing within her bloodstream, the young brunette scrambled to her feet. She kicked off the shoes that caused her to struggle and raced toward the road nearby. "Help!" she wailed, her voice breaking as tears pelted down her bruised cheek. She waved her arms around, praying that any traffic would suddenly appear out of nowhere. "Help me, please!" She stumbled up the slight hill, her fingernails digging through the dirt, clawing her way to her own safety. Headlights passed through the night, illuminating the road ahead, but oblivious to the danger below.
She had never been so scared in her life. She forced herself to move within the street, her bare feet warm against the dry asphalt. "Help!" Her voice was shaky. Her whole body trembled. She looked as if she had walked straight out of a horror film. A set of headlights began to blind her vision, the sound of breaks squealing piercing her eardrums painfully. She flinched noticeably, crouching down as she curled into the fetal position. She awaited the impact. If it was meant to happen, she hoped that it would kill her. She didn't know if she could survive with this trauma.
"Oh, honey! Are you okay?!" A distressed, feminine voice questioned. The car door slammed, and that was what caused Danielle to stand. She continued to cry. Her bottom lip quivered as she stuttered out her words. "M–My boyfriend. He–he ran off the road and h–he's dead. He's dead." She buried her fingers within her matted hair, wincing at the gash embedded within her scalp. She tugged at her roots, trying to calm her breathing. "He d–died. He's dying!" The woman who had stopped pulled the wailing girl into her chest.
