would be like pouring gasoline on a fire. Her husband was hurt, her world was collapsing, and confirming that her son' s betrayal was the direct cause of it all felt like a cruelty beyond

and clear, relaying our location. My mom was out of the car

help them!

mbled out of the driver's side door. He had a bloo

rning back to the passenger

inward from the impact. Through the shattered window, I could see Eleanor slumped a

It wasn't just a drama on social media anymore. It was twisted metal, shattered glass, and the smell of gasolin

he pickup truck that had caused the initial accident, which h

rake. The truck shot forward, its tires spinning, and rammed direc

lision threw me forward. My head hit the damaged car frame hard. A flash of white light exploded behind my eyes

onsciousness returned in a painful rush. My head throbbed with a blinding pain. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my body screaming in pr

saw flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the wet asphalt

ou hear me? Don't mo

ing led away from his car by another bystander. The scene was a blur of panic and flashing lights. And through the haze of pain and confusion, a sing