Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Everything was so cold, and I couldn’t move.
I opened my eyes to see my mother’s face, now broken and mangled, her green eyes lifeless and dim, staring at me as a moan or rattle emanated from her open lips.
“Mom,” I cried out and tried to move my hand towards her, but a dull, crushing pain shot through my entire body.
I choked on the scream that tore from my lips. Something was on top of me, making it impossible to move.
I got one hand free and reached out for my mother, not seeing the shard of twisted metal that was lodged in her throat until it was too late.
There was so much blood leaking from her red lips, soaking into her dress, which was a dark blue and now looked like an inky wet black.
“Mom, no, please,” I called again.
My voice was hoarse, and I was so cold.
I needed help.
I needed to find help.
Where was my father? Surely, the police had to be on their way. Someone had to be around to help me. This was New York City, millions of people crowded into one tiny island.
Someone had to be close.
With as much strength as I could muster, I pushed the plastic divider off of my upper body.
It was hard.
The second I moved it, I was much colder, but it was easier to breathe. I tried to move my legs, but they were pinned down by something heavy and cold.
Something large and black. It wasn’t a piece of the car.
It was fabric, not leather or metal. It took me a few moments to realize it was my father’s body over mine. He was so heavy, I couldn’t move him.
I cried out again. I was answered only by the howling wind blowing through the car.
“Please help.” The words came out of my mouth, barely above a whisper. I was trying to shout, but it hurt.
Snow drifted in through the broken glass and torn metal.
I looked out of the window closest to me, and it was just a solid white wall.
But if there was snow floating in, it had to be coming from somewhere. My mind was still fuzzy, and it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t on the seats.
I was on the roof of the car.
We had somehow flipped over.
My mother was dead, and I hadn’t seen his face yet, but I just knew my father was gone too.
“Help!” I cried out again, ignoring the screams of pain from my ribs as I tried to project my voice.
The window on the other side of my father was shattered, but I could only see out a few inches that weren’t blocked by a wall of snow. Those inches were covered with jagged pieces of glass. Even if I could get out that way, I would gut myself in the process.
There had to be a way out the front.
Maybe the driver had been able to get out and go for help. It took several agonizing minutes before I was able to actually get on my hands and knees. The shards of broken glass cut into my palms as I slowly made my way to the front of the car.
The driver was still buckled into his seat, hanging lifeless upside down with his blood dripping down into a puddle on the roof of the car. The way his head had been bashed in by the steering wheel was going to haunt my dreams forever.
Next to the ever-growing puddle of blood was a silver flask. It had to have been the driver’s. Had he been drunk? Had he killed my parents? My heart was cold, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to hate him, not yet.
My stomach rolled as I squeezed my eyes closed and looked away, trying to regain enough composure to figure out how to get out of the car.
The windshield was shattered, but it was also blocked in by snow, and the passenger-side window had the same problem. The only way out was through the open window on the driver’s other side, and I couldn’t get past the driver.
“Help!” I screamed.
I kept screaming it over and over, my voice getting stronger with each pass until my throat felt like it was on fire while the rest of my body was freezing. I kept screaming as long as I could, but eventually I didn’t have the strength.
My eyes slid closed as I collapsed on top of more pieces of broken glass, and the world went dark again.
There was no way to tell how long I was out. It wasn’t until I heard a faint voice calling that I was able to open my eyes again.
“This is the New York City Police Department. Is there anyone still in there?”
“Yes,” I tried calling out, but my throat was too dry, too raw, and my lungs hurt too much to take a deep breath.