Crashed(book three)(25)

My body banging into the protective cage around me, his meaty fingers trying to take me, own me, claim me.

Tell me you love me. Say it!

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I welcome the impact of the f*cking car because it knocks those words off my tongue. I can see it, feel it, hear it all at the same time as if I’m everywhere and nowhere all at f*cking once. In the car and outside of it. The resonating, unmistakable crunch of metal as I become weightless, momentarily free from the pain. Knowing that once I’ve spoken those three words only hurt can come.

The f*cking poison will eat at me piece by piece until I’m the nothing I already know I am.

The goddamn fear will paralyze me—f*cking consume me—dynamite exploding in a vacuum chamber.

My body slams forward but my shoulder harnesses strangle me motionless, like Rylee urging me to move forward. Like the f*cking memory of him holding me back—unforgiving arms trapping me as I fight against the blackness he fills me with. Against the words he forces me to say, forever f*cking up their goddamn meaning.

The impact hits me full force—car against barrier, f*cking heart against chest, hope against demons—but all I see is Rylee stepping over the wall. All I can see is him coming at me while she’s walking away.

“Rylee?” I call out to her. Help me. Save me. Redeem me. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t respond. All my hope is f*cking lost.

… I’m broken …

I watch the car—feel its movement encompassing me—slowly come to a stop, the damage unknown as the darkness consumes me.

… and so very bent …

My final exhale of resistance—from him, for her—as the fight leaves me.

Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.

“We’re losing him. He’s crashing!

… I wonder if there’s pain when you die …

“Colton, come back. Fight goddammit!”





Minutes turn into hours.


Hours turn into days.

Time slips away when we’ve lost too much of it as it is.

I refuse to leave Colton’s bedside. Too many people have left him in his life, and I refuse to do it when it matters the most. So I ramble to him incessantly. I speak about nothing and everything, but it doesn’t help. He never reacts, never moves … and it kills me.

Visitors drift in and out of his room in sporadic bouts: his parents, Quinlan, and Becks. Updates are given in the waiting room where some of the crew and Tawny still gather daily. And I have no doubt that Becks is making sure Tawny keeps her distance from me and my more than fragile emotional state.

On the fifth day I can’t take it anymore. I need to feel him against me. I need that physical connection with him. I carefully move all the wires to the side and cautiously crawl on the bed beside him, placing my head on his chest and my hand over his heart. The tears come now with the feel of his body against mine. I find comfort in the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath my ear, instead of the electronic beep of the monitor I’ve grown to rely on as a gauge of his momentary status.

I snuggle into him, wishing for the feel of his arm curling around me, and the rumble of his voice through his chest. Little bits of comfort that don’t come.

We lie there for awhile and I’m fading off into the clutches of sleep when I startle awake. I swear it’s Colton’s voice that is pulling at me. Swear I hear the chant of superheroes, a tumultuous sigh on his lips. My heart races in my chest as I reacquaint myself with the foreign surroundings of his room. The only thing familiar is Colton next to me, and even that’s a small comfort to the riot in my psyche because he’s not the same either. His fingers twitch and he moans again, and even though it’s not the words that awoke me, deep down I know he’s calling to them. Asking for the help to pull him from this nightmare.