Pretty Thing (Pieces of Despair Duet #1)

Chapter 1

one

. . .

Eden

Mom gasps. Dad swears.

Our car jerks violently to the left. The tires skid as Dad fights with the steering wheel. My phone flies from my hands and slams into the door. I grab the seat in front of me, while my heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“Dad!”

The world tilts.

Unbelievably bright headlights blind me through the windshield…impossibly close.

Bang.

The impact feels like a bomb going off. Glass explodes around me as we’re immediately hit again from behind. Tiny pieces bite into my skin like teeth. The force drives us forward, scraping past the car in front of us. I cover my head as a truck rams the driver’s side, knocking us sideways.

I taste something metallic…blood. The sounds around me are deafening, then muffled, like I’ve been shoved underwater.

Everything happens so fast. It’s as if we’ve been picked up by a tornado and tossed around in a deadly game of bumper cars.

Our car lifts off the ground, and I’m weightless for what feels like forever before we crash back down.

There is a moment of silence, or maybe I just can’t hear.

And then a snap.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream when I see bone sticking through the skin in my arm. My stomach churns at the sight. Leaning down, I vomit just as we are hit again.

Sharp, piercing pain rips through my side, and the seatbelt digs into my shoulder and chest. Blood runs down my arm, and my muddled brain scrambles to remember basic first aid.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Stay calm. That’s the first rule in emergencies. Right?

I glance around and see my windbreaker in the back window. Grabbing it, I shake out the glass shards, then bite my lip hard. My stomach rolls again as I make a ring and slip it over the bone to hold it in place. Then I cover it to keep the area clean and wrap it as tight as I can.

Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.

I barely get it tied and the car beside us is hit again. We must be close to the edge of the road, but I can’t figure out which way we’re facing.

How close are we to going over the embankment?

Metal shrieks around us. Not crashing but screaming—like something being torn apart.

High beams shine through the car from every angle as the road fills with casualties. I hold my broken arm to my chest, trying to protect it from the relentless assault.

We’re going to be crushed.

Terror claws at my throat, but I’m frozen in place. The car lurches violently before the front slams into something hard and comes to a complete stop.

My ankle is throbbing and burning, but I haven’t noticed it until now, with the pain from my arm. Everything hurts, and all I can hear is a ringing in my ears and my heavy breaths.

The world is fuzzy like I’ve put on the wrong prescription glasses. Nothing makes sense when I lift my head. All I can see is smoke, metal, and destruction.

Is this a concussion or am I dying?

It’s dark outside but strangely lit up. Maybe I’ve been abducted by aliens.

A sudden, deep rumble comes from my left, and I look out my window. It’s somehow still intact, and I watch a car burst into flames. The whoosh of ignition is louder than anything else.

Oh my God.

The people inside try to get out. Hands are pounding on the glass. The woman in the driver’s seat presses her shoulder to the door. Her eyes are desperate when they meet mine.

“Hurry, get out,” I yell.

She gets her door open and stumbles out, only to be engulfed in the flames chasing her.

The woman scrambles in circles, arms flailing. It is the most horrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed. Her agonized screams claw at my heart and hurt my ears. Our eyes lock, and she mouths, “Help me,” before she collapses forward and falls still.

This is not real. This is not happening.

Someone else is yelling, but I can’t tell from where. Another scream cuts off abruptly after a squeal and a loud bang.

The adrenaline in my system clears away some of the fuzzy sensation, but I can’t shake the feeling that this must be just a nightmare. It has to be.

But the nausea and the bone sticking out of my arm prove otherwise.

Everything around me has gone eerily quiet other than a soft ticking like a turn signal stuck on, but it’s no more comforting than the sound of metal crunching.

It’s so hard to draw a breath.

The air is thick with smoke, gasoline, and burning rubber. The windshield has been reduced to a spiderweb of cracks. The dashboard is crushed inward, and something red taints the interior, like a can of paint exploded.

“Mom?” My voice cracks. “Dad?”

No response.

“Mom, Dad?” The words sound wrong. “Dad, can you hear me?”

Nothing. They don’t respond or move. There is just…nothing.

“Ow…” I groan as I unclip the seatbelt and set myself free. It hits my broken arm, and I immediately vomit again. I can’t think about the fact that I’m stepping in it or the putrid smell assaulting my nose.

Tick, tick. Tick, tick. Tick, tick.

“Stop ticking!”

It doesn’t stop.

White-hot pain tears through my side when I try to move, stealing my breath. My head rings with a high-pitched whine that drowns out everything else. I wipe the puke from my mouth, and my hand is streaked with…blood.

My eyes lift to my parents. Mom hangs limp against her seatbelt, hair falling loose around her face. Dad’s head is bowed, resting on the bright red airbag. A jagged piece of metal is sticking through the windshield and into his chest.

“Dad, please,” I whisper. “Dad, please wake up.”

Nothing.

Trying to move is like pushing through quicksand. My limbs don’t want to work properly as I slide to the middle of the seat. Finally making it, I reach over and shake my mom. Her hair shifts, but she doesn’t make a sound. I do the same to my dad, and only silence greets me.

“I need to get help.”

I don’t want to go out my door where the woman is still burning, but the other side is crushed in. I try pushing on it anyway, but it’s useless. It won’t budge.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Dad, wake up.”

Still no response.

With no other option, I move across the seat and look out the window. The woman isn’t moving, but the stench in the air has me turning away and covering my mouth.

God help us.

With a whimper, I pull on the handle, but it won’t move either. Shit. I slam my palm against the glass, again and again, trying to break it.

“No. No, no, no. Just hang on. I’m going to get help.”

Out of nowhere, more screeching tires. The impact rocks the car. I lurch back and land on the seat. Instinctively, I reach out with my right arm. A bloodcurdling scream rips from my lungs as I remember too late that it’s broken.

My stomach threatens to turn inside out again, and I feel faint as tears coat my cheeks. I lay on the seat shaking, trying not to pass out, but maybe it’s better if I do. Swallowing hard, I slowly sit up.

The sound of metal echoes down the road as more vehicles join the chaos.

“I need to get out of here. I have to save my parents. We can’t die in this tin can.”

Blood smears across the window as I try again to break the glass, but I don’t stop.

“Help!” My throat feels shredded. “Please—help!”

Sirens sound in the distance, faint at first, then louder. Red and blue lights flash through the shattered windshield, painting everything in violent color through the night.

I bang on the glass again, sobbing now.

“I’m here! I’m here!” I cry out over and over. “Someone, please, help us. Can anyone hear me?”

Hands appear and press up against the window. A face. A guy. He’s yelling something I can’t understand. He tries the door.

“Fuck,” he yells, loud enough I can hear when it doesn’t open.

The guy punches the glass, and I jerk back.

“I’ve got you,” he shouts, louder. “Stay with me.”

Then he disappears into the night.

“No, please don’t leave me. Come back!” My voice shakes. “Please,” I yell, hitting the window. “Don’t leave us here!”

He comes back with something in his hands and gets close to the glass between us.

“I’m going to break the window, move back, and cover your head.”

His blue eyes penetrate my soul, and I do what he says, biting my lip when a sharp pain shoots up my arm. I grab the neck of my hoodie and pull it up over my head like a shield. I feel like my favorite animal, a sea turtle, tucking into my shell.

Crack.

I jerk back.

Crack.

Louder this time.

Smash.

Cold air rushes in, reminding me that it’s the middle of winter. I gasp in fresh oxygen like I’ve been drowning.

“Hey there, are you okay?”

He sounds concerned, but his voice is steady, smooth, and comforting.

“I…I don’t know. My arm is broken.”

“Hold on,” he says.

I lift my head and watch him lean in through the window to clear the glass off the seat. Then he peels off his jacket. He folds it before laying it over the door frame. His eyes meet mine as he reaches for me.

“Okay, come on. I’ve got you.”

Pain lances my side as I move toward him.

He sticks his head in, leaning on the door.

“I’m Felix,” he says, eyes steady. “Look at me. You’re okay. You’re alive.”

Alive.

How can he be sure?

Felix looks over his shoulder.

“The firefighters are here. Don’t move, it’s safer if they get you out,” he says, standing up straight.

“Please don’t leave me,” I beg, grabbing his hand.

“I’m not. I promise. I’m not going anywhere,” Felix says.

He gives me a little smile when I nod and release him.

“I’m just going to get help.”

“No. Please just pull me out.”

“But…”

“Please,” I cry. “I can’t…I can’t stay in here.”

“Alright. Turn so your back is to me. I’ll grip you under the arms and slowly pull you out. Don’t lift your head, or I may accidentally bump it against the window frame. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

I follow his directions and bite back the yell as my ribs bark at me with every little movement. I’m panting when I finally get into position.

“I’m ready.”

He slips his hands under my arms, and they feel so warm even through my hoodie.

“Here we go. Remember, watch your head.”

Felix lifts me. The pain is so intense I’m sure that I’ll pass out. Instead, I cringe against the agony and lay my head back into his chest and focus on him. I end up staring up at his jaw.

“Hold on.”

He changes positions so one arm is around my body and the other under my legs. Felix carries me the rest of the way out. I bury my face in his chest, panting hard and body trembling.

I’m free, but Felix doesn’t put me down. He just holds me. He doesn’t look much older than I am. His brows are furrowed in concentration as his eyes search my face.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head despite the uncontrollable shivers racking my body.

“My parents,” I choke. “Please. My parents—help them.”

I lock eyes with him, and his jaw tightens.

“Help is coming, I promise. I can’t help them by myself, but we’re not leaving. We’re safe now, and the worst is already over.”

Sirens have replaced the sound of crunching metal.

Police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances screech to a stop nearby.

The lights never stop flashing. The noises are too loud, and the lights are too bright.

It hurts my head. I close my eyes and bury my face into the side of his neck.

He smells far too good for the situation, but it’s comforting, like dark spice and rich caramel.

The smoke in the air makes me think of camping trips and sitting around the fire.

“Where’s your car?”

“Over toward the other side of the bridge,” he says, not offering any more, and I don’t ask.

“They’re dead…aren’t they? My parents,” I croak.

Felix doesn’t answer, which is enough. I close my eyes as a wave of nausea and dizziness hits.

“The firefighters are heading this way. What’s your name?”

“Eden. Eden Hale,” I whisper.

“Love the name. Try and stay awake,” Felix says and starts to walk.

I don’t want to leave my parents, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes open long enough to protest.

Suddenly, a woman I don’t know is talking, taking my vitals, and shining a light in my eyes. Something around my neck prevents me from turning away.

Felix is standing beside me, his hand gripping mine.

“You’re doing great. Just keep breathing,” the woman says and then looks at Felix. “Are you related?”

“No, she’s…” He pauses. “My girlfriend,” he says, and my eyebrows raise.

I am? I’m lifted, and pain screams through my body as I’m moved off the ground. It seems to be coming from everywhere. My ribs, back, ankle, arm, and head. Everything fades to black as I pass out again.

Snowflakes land on my cheeks. I’m cold and damp when I jerk awake. I’m on a stretcher. Felix is beside me.

We pass by a group of firefighters spraying water on flames. Everything moves so quickly that I can only catch glimpses out of the corner of my eyes.

“Parents,” I say, my eyes locked on Felix’s face. “My parents?”

“The firefighters are at your car now,” he says, and I relax a little. Even if they are already dead, I can’t just leave them here alone.

Felix follows beside me until a paramedic stops him.

“She needs space, and you need to get checked out,” she says.

His hand slips from mine, and panic surges so powerfully that I try to sit up as I yell.

“No.”

Felix stops and looks at me.

“No,” I sob. “Please—don’t let him leave. No…please,” I cry again, and the paramedic looks between us.

“Fine, you can ride with us. But I’m checking you out first.”

“Okay,” Felix says.

Felix hops up beside me and grabs my hand again once the stretcher is loaded in the back of the ambulance. I take a steadier breath as if he is the only source of oxygen.

Felix leans in, his face the last solid thing I see.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you.”

The doors slam shut, deafening and far too close. My head throbs.

The ceiling swims above me as darkness creeps in from the edges. Felix’s face disappears. I fight it. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to wake up alone. I want my parents to be okay. I…

The last thing I hear is the medic calling out numbers and the siren screaming into the night. Just before the darkness pulls me under, I can’t help but think how cruel it is to finally know who you’re meant to be…only to lose everything.