40. Callie
forty
Callie
“Elijiah!” I scream. He turns towards me and his head bobs like he can’t hold it up. Blood trickles down the side of his face. “Oh my god, Eli. You’re bleeding. We need to get you out of this car.”
My crazy man purposefully spun the car around so the psycho behind us would hit him. What in the hell was he thinking?
Flashes of the oversized black SUV hitting us from behind make me flinch. They purposefully drove us off the road—hitting us from behind, making us spin out and lose control, then crashing into us again before driving off.
Was this Silla too?
I push the thought away, focusing on Eli and what I need to do to get the fuck out of this car. Someone shouts my name in the background, but my head is foggy as if I’m swimming under water. All I want is to get to Eli. He’s hurt. Badly.
Time sluggishly moves through the hourglass like quicksand as I scream and cry, begging for Eli to talk to me. To let me know he’s okay.
“Eli! Please, talk to me.”
When he opens his mouth to speak, he takes a gasping breath, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His body shudders as he passes out.
“No! Fuck! Eli, wake up. Please wake up. Don’t leave me.” I panic and thrash in my seat, trying to get to him.
No. No. No. Please don’t let anything happen to him . I won’t survive losing Eli. He’s my everything. We’re supposed to be starting our life together, not ending it.
Shut up and think , my brain shouts to staunch the panic gripping my thoughts.
Step one, get the hell out of the car.
I push away the airbag, desperately reaching for the seatbelt release button. My finger finds the button, but when I push it, the strap stays pressed across my chest, preventing me from getting out. Tears stream down my face as I tug and scream in frustration at the seatbelt trapping me.
Eli’s chest heaves rapidly as more blood drips down the side of his face.
“Fucking hell!” I claw at the seatbelt.
The taste of smoke burns my throat as I scream and shout at the man I love to wake up. I want to rip my fucking hair out as I watch Eli’s breaths grow shallow and wheezy.
“Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. No. This can’t be happening. Eli. I need you. Please wake up. Please.” I sob as I grit my teeth and tug at the seatbelt again.
“Callie! Fucking stop and listen to me.”
I freeze at the sound of a familiar voice filling the car’s cabin.
“Mason?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He sighs. I forgot Eli was talking to him before the car hit us. “I’m still on the line. The police are on their way. Can you hear any sirens?”
Doing as he asked, I ignore the hiss and creaks of Eli’s totaled car and focus on sounds in the distance. I can faintly make out people shouting and sirens. My body relaxes at the sound of help arriving.
“I can hear the sirens,” I cry.
“Good. That’s good. Now, I need you to stay calm. Help will be there soon.”
“Mason…” There is so much I want to say but can’t because it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.
Eli has to be okay. I can’t live without him.
I don’t have to say the words for Mason to understand. “I know, Callie. He’s going to be fine. E is tough as hell. He won’t give up. So, you can’t either.”
Mason is right. Eli is tough, and he needs me to stay strong so I can help him through this. It’s my turn to stand behind him and lift him up.
“Never.” I grip my necklace as tears stream down my face. “I love him so much.”
“He loves you too. Stay strong. We already called the family. I need you to find his phone and hold on to it, so we know where to find you. I’m on my way, okay?”
Even though he can’t see me, I nod. “Okay.”
“Find his phone and say you’re his wife. Stick to his side, Callie. That’s all you have to do.”
Clinging to the seatbelt, I hold on and focus my attention on Eli. His chest is still moving—a little too quickly—but the sirens are loud, ringing in my ear.
So close.
He is strong , I repeat the mantra over and over.
People in black uniforms materialize out of nowhere and surround the car. Police radios crackle as people speak into hand radios, describing the scene. My eyes never leave Eli as hands covered in blue gloves search for his pulse.
A man dressed in black, with the star of life on his chest, appears at my side. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
I ignore his question as the crunch of metal shrieks like nails on a chalkboard, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“What are they doing?” I ask, panicked, as Eli’s body jostles from the force.
“They are opening the door to get to the driver. Can you tell me if anything hurts?”
“No, I’m fine. Please help him.” Eli needs the help more than I do.
“My colleagues are working on your…” the paramedic trails off, searching for some answers.
“Husband,” I answer, remembering what Mason told me to say.
“Your husband is in excellent hands, I swear. Now, please let me help you.”
“O-okay,” I stammer. It physically hurts me to look away from Eli as someone slips a collar around his neck and places an oxygen mask over his face.
I let the paramedic do his job. He places a medical collar around my neck and flashes a penlight in my eyes before slicing the seatbelt with a knife. Another EMT comes over and helps pull me out of the car, forcing me onto a gurney.
My eyes scan the area, searching for Eli. He’s strapped onto a spinal board as they lift him onto a gurney. Wires and tubes connect him to machines.
Another EMT shouts, “His pulse is thready, pulse-oxygen levels are low. Probably a collapsed lung. We need to move now.”
“That’s bad, isn’t it?” I ask the EMT.
The grave face he gives me is all the answer I need.
“Eli!” I try to sit up.
The man in black holds me back. “Ma’am, please calm down,” the man says in his soothing, deep voice.
It helps. I stop moving and lie back.
“They are doing everything they can to help him. We need to check you out, and we will take you to the same hospital as your husband, okay?”
I nod. The rational part of my brain knows this, but all I want is to get to Eli. “Wait, I need his phone. I have to call our family.”
“Do you know where it was? In his pocket? On a stand?” the EMT asks.
Think, Callie . Where the fuck was Eli’s phone?
“Uh, the cup holder. It was in the cup holder.”
EMTs push Eli into the back of an ambulance and slam the doors. The vehicle containing my whole life drives away, sirens blaring.
“Got it!” someone shouts.
A second later, someone places Eli’s phone in my hands. Gripping the phone like a lifeline, I’m lifted into the back of another ambulance. The doors slam, making me flinch, but when the vehicle lurches forward, following Eli to the hospital, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, praying to every being in the universe to save the man I love.