The Wife Before

Prologue

With the wipers sloshing hopelessly against the lashing rain, tears blinding me as I realise I have nowhere to go, no family left I can turn to, I don’t see the car heading right at me until it’s almost too late.

Quickly, I swerve to avoid it and panic rips through me as the old Land Rover careers across the bypass and skids towards the guard rail.

Instinctively, I brace my hands against the dashboard.

The car ploughs straight through the rail, and a sense of calm washes over me as it plunges as if in slow motion towards the jagged rocks at the foot of the ravine.

I’ve been living on borrowed time, I realise, imagining I could build a new relationship from the ashes of my broken life.

That I could have the thing I craved most of all in life.

Children. A family. Fate has intervened to remind me I don’t deserve one.

The shrill caw of a solitary bird seconds before the car lands jolts me from my state of limbo.

I hear the windshield imploding, the creaking and grinding as the front end compresses, forcing mangled metal back into the vehicle.

For a heartbeat, everything is deathly quiet, and then the metal groans like a wounded beast woken from sleep, and the car rolls judderingly over.

No! I’m not ready to give up. My will to live kicks ferociously in.

If I’m to be punished, so be it. But I won’t allow my child to be.

He doesn’t deserve this. Gagging against the salty, metallic taste in my throat, I wait, hearing nothing now but a strange hissing and popping.

And then I smell it. Petrol. Pungent and acrid, it sears the back of my throat, burning my eyes and filling the car with thick fumes that will kill me as surely as a spark igniting them could.

A lurch of fear grips me, my stomach heaving, my heart booming out a warning, and I twist to fumble desperately with the door handle, excruciating pain shooting through my wrist. It’s useless, precious seconds ticking by as I struggle.

Terror crackles like icicles through my veins as I register that the car is on its side, the driver’s door pinned to the ground.

I’m trapped. My heart stalls as I see the flicker of a flame snaking its way through the wreckage.

‘No!’ Anger unfurls inside me. I will not let this happen.

My mind ticking feverishly, I attempt to reach the passenger door, only to realise I’m pinned by the seat belt.

Frantically, my lungs stripped raw, my eyes streaming, I grope at the clasp with my good hand.

A surge of relief crashes through me as I hear a click and it gives.

The door is buckled, open a fraction. My blood pumping with adrenaline, I claw and heave my way towards it, shoving it wide.

As I scramble to clamber out, I feel a sudden rush of hot air.

Fear crystallises inside me as I see the flames gathering momentum, hungry tongues licking at the roof.

How long before they engulf me and I die in indescribable agony?

Summoning every ounce of strength I possess, my desperation to survive for my child driving me, I drop to the ground, landing heavily on my knees.

Primal instinct kicks in, and I manoeuvre myself to my feet to stumble away from the impending inferno.

The blast when it comes slams me back down, forcing the air from my body.

The fire rages behind me, scorching my clothes, my exposed flesh, my hair.

I have to get out of here. Blinking hard, my eyelids coarse and grainy, I twist my head to look up to the road above, and freeze as I recognise the person staring down at me.

My heart races as I wonder whether they’re here to help me or to finish me off.