Angel of Redemption (46 page)

Out
of the corner of my eye, I see the Mustang pull slightly ahead. I floor the gas
pedal, trying to catch up.

The car drifts too close, and I
swerve—but I’m going so fast, I can’t control it. It all happens so
quickly. I don’t know where it came from, but there’s suddenly a car in my
way—not the Mustang. I grip the wheel. Gage is yelling at me; screaming.

“
Dean, STOP!
”

I
slam on my breaks, hearing them screech, but it
’
s too late. I close my eyes and throw
my hands over my face as we hit the car full force. My body jerks forward and
then slams back. There
’
s the sound of metal crunching, splintering. It hurts my ears.
I
’
m
spinning, dizzy, unable to focus. Everything around me fades away, and then
there
’
s
nothing.

When
I come to, the car isn
’
t moving anymore. I think I
’
m upside down. I don
’
t feel anything at first
—
it
’
s like I
’
m in a bubble. Everything
’
s cloudy and fuzzy. I can
’
t see, even though I know my eyes are
open. There
’
s something in them, on them. I don
’
t know. I blink. I can
’
t move my left arm, but I don
’
t know why.

When
the pain comes, it hits me like a Mack truck. My whole body is suddenly
screaming at me from the inside out. It hurts so fucking bad.

I
can lift my right hand just enough to wipe at my eyes. I blink again, clearing
my vision. I wish I hadn
’
t. There
’
s blood all over. On my hand, in my
eyes, everywhere.

Where
’
s Gage? All I can feel is pain. All I
can see is blood. I hear the sound of screaming. Through the pain, I hear
screaming.

Turning
my head around in circles, I try to figure out what
’
s going on
—
where I am. My window is busted and
through the broken glass, I can see another car. It
’
s twenty, maybe thirty feet away. It
’
s flipped onto its roof. There
’
s a woman strapped in, upside down. I
can see her. She
’
s screaming.

“
My baby, my baby! Help my baby!
”

But
I can
’
t
help her. I can
’
t help her baby. I can
’
t help anyone. I can
’
t move. There
’
s fire, so much fire. I can feel the
heat. It
’
s
consuming her
—
them. I can
’
t look away. Her eyes meet mine. I
’
m so close, and I can
’
t help her. She
’
s still screaming. Make it stop. I don
’
t want to see this. Please, God. I don
’
t want to see this. Her face. Her
eyes. I can
’
t move. I can
’
t help her. Where
’
s Gage? What
’
s that smell? I can
’
t move.

I
watch the woman. I don
’
t want to, but I can
’
t look away. The screaming stops, and
I watch as her body convulses violently. What have I done?

I
reach down and am barely able to push the button to release my seatbelt. When I
do, my body falls the short distance to the ground and I feel an intense pain
in my shoulder. I shimmy around, trying to move to a less painful position, but
there isn
’
t
one. My back hurts so bad.

I
think I can hear sirens, but they
’
re too late. People are shouting, screaming. I don
’
t know what
’
s going on. I don
’
t know where Gage is. He
’
s not where he
’
s supposed to be. Then I see him. He
’
s halfway out the window. His eyes are closed, his body
crumpled. There
’
s blood on his face and shirt. So much blood. He
’
s not moving. Why isn
’
t he moving?

“
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Gage,
”
I gasp.
“
Gage!
”

He
doesn
’
t answer. I try to yell, but no sound
comes out. My lungs hurt. There
’
s a horrible smell and I don
’
t know what it is, but it burns my
nostrils. I want to throw up. Maybe I already have. My shirt is wet, and my
head is heavy.

Muddled
voices come from all around, but I can
’
t understand what they
’
re saying. I don
’
t know how long has passed. All I know
is that I can
’
t keep my eyes open anymore.

Kayla
’
s face is pale, her eyes red-rimmed. I
watch as a tear slips from the corner, trailing down her cheek and dripping
from her chin, but I
’
m unable to provide any comfort with my emotions on
lockdown.

I
run my hand over my left shoulder.
“
It
was a combination of road rash, anti-freeze, and transmission fluid that leaked
that caused the burns on my back. They told me that because of the way the car
landed, all the engine fluids flowed down to where we were lying. When I
unfastened my seat belt, I inadvertently dropped myself into a puddle. They
tell me the burns on this arm,
”
I say, nodding toward my right side,
“
happened right before they pulled me out. Part of the car
caught on fire. They were able to put it out, but not before it got to me.
”

“
What happened to Gage?
”
Kayla chokes out.

“
He was in bad shape. They had to put him in a medically
induced coma for swelling in his brain. He had a punctured lung, and his leg
was severed completely. They tried to reattach it, but it didn
’
t work. Something about the blood
flow. For a long time, they weren
’
t sure he would survive.
”
Kayla uses her sleeve to wipe her
face.

“I was in the burn unit for a few weeks. One of my
dad’s friends pulled some strings and got me a great plastic surgeon to help
with skin grafts and scar minimization. My mom, dad, and Aiden were the only
ones allowed to see me; there was too much risk of infection. And they had to
scrub themselves and wear masks. Gage was in intensive care. We couldn’t see
each other even if we’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t face him.”

“
What happened to the woman?
”
Her voice is quiet and hesitant, like she
’
s afraid to ask, but needs to know.

“
Nadia Wilde.
”
I nod.
“
She was a passenger. Her husband, Ian, was driving. Their,
uh
…
their
four-year-old son, Adrian, was in the backseat.
”
This is the one place where my mask
slips. I can
’
t
think of Adrian Wilde without feeling my heart ache.
“
Adrian and Ian were on the side I hit.
They died on impact. Nadia
’
s cause of death was smoke inhalation, but they said her
body was badly injured. She had a lot of internal damage.
”

“
They all died?
”
Kayla asks calmly. She must be controlling her voice. My
guess is that it
’
s
a result of years working in the system.

I
rock my head up and down in a choppy nod.

“
Redemption,
”
she whispers in understanding.

“
They didn
’
t tell me about the Wildes when I woke up. I mean, I knew
she was dead
—
I watched her die
—
but I didn
’
t know about Ian or Adrian until I was flipping through the
channels on the TV and I saw their pictures. The reporter was talking about a
family that was killed in a
‘
tragic street racing accident.
’
They showed the cars and the scene and all these flowers
and teddy bears.
”

“
Oh my God,
”
Kayla whimpers.

“
I freaked out
—
got sick all over myself, ripped out
my IV, and tore off some bandages. I was so crazed that they had to sedate me.
I refused to let my family anywhere near me for a week. I was horrified.
”

Kayla
doesn
’
t
say anything. She takes a drink of water, runs her hand through her hair, bites
the thumbnail of her free hand, and then takes another sip of water. I can feel
my shield slipping. It makes me agitated. I don
’
t
like feeling vulnerable.

“
It was my fault, and I
’
m the only one who walked away unscathed. How is that
fucking fair?
”

Kayla
’
s mouth drops open.
“
Unscathed? You really believe you
walked away unscathed?
”

“
I
’
m alive. My family isn
’
t visiting my grave every year. They got to watch me grow
up and become a man. As Gage says, I
’
ve
‘
got all my parts.
’
My parents are still together. My mother
’
s not dying of cancer. Yeah, Kayla, I
’
d say I walked away pretty fucking
easily. My scars are nothing compared to what everyone else lost.
”

Kayla
stands up and then drops to her knees in front of me.
“
I
’
m not talking about your physical scars, Dean. I
’
m talking about what
’
s up here.
”
She presses three fingers against my
temple and then slides her hand down to my chest, placing it flat over my
heart.
“
And
here.
”

I
put my hand on top, threading my fingers with hers and gripping them. I
’
m torn between holding it harder
against me and pushing it away. When I look into her eyes, there
’
s nothing but compassion and
acceptance in them. No blame, no hatred, no deception. I
’
m not sure exactly how I expected her to react, but I
certainly wasn
’
t anticipating this.

“
You were just a kid,
”
she says softly.
“
You made a mistake. You
’
ve seen enough teenagers go through
your house to know that making bad decisions is part of life.
”