Chapter 11
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
Everything hurt. My shoulder was on fire, my ribs ached when I breathed, and my head was ringing.
“Hold on ma’am. We’ll get you out.”
Who was that? Felix? It didn’t sound like him.
My head lolled to the side as I groaned and forced my eyes open.
I wasn’t in The Craven anymore. I was in my car. My very smashed and destroyed car. The front end was pushed in, no glass but a couple of shards were left in the windshield, and my steering wheel was pressed up against my ribs.
“What?” I looked around at the flashing lights and various men in uniforms running around.
What was going on? Was I in an accident? I didn’t remember getting in my car after leaving. I didn’t remember anything after leaving. I stepped out the door, and then I was here. It didn’t make sense. The date displayed on my dash made even less sense.
December 30.
No. I spent new year’s eve being tormented. Didn’t I?
I had the same wounds, but they were different. Instead of a skewer in my shoulder, there was a jagged piece of metal, and tiny shards of glass were sticking in my arms and legs, not knife cuts.
Was it all a dream? Flynn, Felix, The Craven? It felt so real.
That’s when I noticed the other car. It was more destroyed than mine. There was nothing left of it but a mangled frame and tires. But it was the faces in the driver and passenger seats that sent a chill up my spine.
Gina and Austin’s lifeless eyes stared back at me. They too had the same but different wounds. There was a large piece of glass sticking out of Gina’s throat, cutting it in the exact pattern Felix did. And Austin was a bloody mess.
Looking down at my hands, I searched for his blood. There was nothing but my own blood. This was wrong. I could still feel the knife in my palm as I plunged it into Austin’s flesh. Was his name even Austin? Maybe I made it all up?
I shifted and groaned at the searing pain that shot up my side.
“She’s awake!” Someone called from my left. “Get over here.”
A paramedic ran up as something glinted in the corner of my eye.
I turned to see a postcard sitting neatly on my dashboard. The Hotel depicted on it was all too familiar. Written across the picture in bright red ink were the words:
Remember your choice, Poppet.
It was a warning of what might happen and could’ve been. If I kept going down the same road, I’d find myself back there. I didn’t know if there was a heaven or a hell, but there was a Craven, and I had no desire to go back.
Felix’s words rang through my mind. “If you can’t let go of your guilt…”
Forgiving myself wouldn’t be easy, if possible at all, but I had to try.
“You’re going to be okay. Try not to move.” The paramedic reached in the car and touched my shoulder. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
“Yeah,” I stared at the postcard. “My parents.”