Dissociative Psyche ✦ J. Riley | ✓ [book 2]

23~ The Dying of the Light

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night. Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

~ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas

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Everything went black.

For a brief moment, Jenna felt as though she was floating; like her spirit had left her body and she was on a gentle voyage to the great beyond. But no, floating didn't feel like having whiplash while being strapped into a leather seat. She awoke slowly, her blurred vision quickly clearing up, and soon she realized where she was. The air bag was blown in front of her, she had blood running down the side of her face, and Jana was unconscious next to her.

"Oh... oh, God. Jana," she didn't know what to do. She gently shook her, but the pretty brunette didn't stir. Her face was scratched terribly, with flecks of glass shining through her wounds. Most importantly, her bump was wedged into the dashboard, stuck.

Jenna took deep breath, trying not to panic. Panicking now would get her no where, and would only endanger Jana and the baby even more. First things first: she had to call for help. Her phone had slipped out of the cup holder and landed next to her boot, where she had to strain down so she could grab it. But nonetheless, she was successful, and she immediately dialled 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My name is Jenna Desmond. I'm reporting a car crash on --" she craned her sore neck to see the street sign, "Lexington and Forty-fourth street. I'm not hurt, but my friend, she's -- she pregnant. Please, she's pinned down!"

"Don't worry, Ms. Desmond. EMS and fire department have just been dispatched. They'll be there shortly," 

"Please, just hurry!" she immediately hung up the phone, her claustrophobia starting to kick in. She had to get out of the car. With sirens blaring in the distance, she tried pushing the door open, but it was stuck. She then resorted to using her phone, smashing it against the glass window until it shattered to pieces. From there, she managed to slide out and onto the ground, just as fire crews came rushing to the scene.

Firefighters immediately surrounded the car, while rescue workers went for Jenna, "We need to check you out," the paramedic said.

"I'm not hurt, really! I'm fine!" she said.

"You could have a spinal injury!"

"I'm okay! Please!"

"You should go to the hospital!"

"Forget about me!" she snapped at the woman, "Just -- please! Help her!" she pointed them to the wreckage, "You got to get her out!"

"Ma'am!" one of the firefighters approached her, "You have to stay back,"

"She is my best friend!" she exclaimed hastily.

"The passenger bag didn't deploy," he said, "It needs to be deactivated before anybody can go in there,"

"I understand that. But she's eight and half months pregnant. The baby could be in distress!" she tried to go forward, but the firefighter stopped her again.

"I understand, Miss. But I'm not going to get anybody killed here if that bag goes off!" he told her. Jenna felt a headache coming on, just as the familiar feeling of dread began to creep up on her once again.

"How's the other driver?" she asked.

"Seems to be okay," a responding officer replied, "Car reeks of booze," of course it did.