Flawed Heart: House Of Obsidian - Bella Jewel Page 0,41

and I start running, hard and fast. I pull out my phone as I go, dialing an ambulance. If these people are still alive, they’re not going to be in a good way.

I manage to get through in a couple of seconds and I bark out what’s happening and where I think I am as I reach the car. I shine my flashlight through the windows but it’s too damned hard to see. The lady on the other line tells me someone will be there soon, and not to move or touch anyone. I hang up and shove my phone back, before taking the door handle and pulling it, over and over. It finally breaks open.

“Hello?” I call, listening for something, anything.

I flash my light in and a pained cry rips from my throat as I see the first person, crushed in the front seat. That person is no longer alive, and the graphic scene in front of me has my body going numb with horror. I keep moving, forcing myself to keep on checking. Someone could be alive. I can’t risk missing them. I flash my light around, but the car is bent at odd angles, and I can’t see the other side.

The windscreen is smashed wide open and there seems to be blood over the hood of the car. I run around the other side and try to catch a glimpse through the passenger door. It’s a mangled mess, but I’m sure I can see another person; it’s so hard to tell when the car is such a mess. I call out again, over and over, feeling vomit rise in my chest.

I leave the passenger side and check the back. There’s nothing in there, but a scatter of toys on the seat has me filling with fear. I run back to the front of the car, where I saw the blood and see it trails down past the car. I move my legs as hard as I can take them until I see another body lying beside a cluster of trees. That body isn’t of an adult, but a young child, maybe ten. I rush over, dropping to my knees and lifting the small child into my arms.

It’s a little girl. She’s still alive.

There are wounds all over her body, so many I can’t pinpoint which ones are causing the most bleeding. She’s breathing, but unconscious. Her body is a mess. Pain tears through my chest and fire burns in my heart as I look down at her, holding her in my arms, completely at a loss. Why wasn’t she wearing a seatbelt? I don’t understand. She’s just a child.

“You’re going to be okay,” I croak, even though she can’t hear me. “Help is coming.”

She’s still in my arms, and her breathing is becoming shallower. Tears burst forth and start rolling down my cheeks as I stare down at her face. She has black hair, beautiful, thick. Such a precious gift. She shouldn’t be here, lying, injured in the dirt. She’s just a child. What were her parents thinking? Why the hell didn’t she have a seatbelt on? Did she take it off?

“Why didn’t you have a seatbelt on?” I croak. “Why, sweetheart?”

I hold her close, trying not to move her, trying not to make anything worse.

“Help is coming. Hang on.”

The sound of blaring sirens cuts through the horror, and before I know it flashlights are shining in my direction. “Hello?” someone calls.

“Here,” I croak out, holding the girl close.

Footsteps sound out and then the area lights up as the officers arrive with re-enforcement. I can see the car now, and it’s more mangled than I first thought. I turn away, vomit rising in my throat. I just keep holding the girl, keeping her warm in my arms, willing her to just hang on.

“Sir,” an ambulance officer says. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I look up at him, and see he has four people with him. Two kneel down and start pulling the girl from my arms.

“I just . . .” My voice is so thick, so broken. “I was driving home and I heard their tires screeching. I looked over and they just launched off the road. There was no one else. I don’t know why the hell something like this happened.”

“So you didn’t see any other vehicles around?”

I shake my head.

“We need to assess this young girl. Can you tell me if you pulled her out of the car?”

“She was . . .” My voice hitches