If I Stay✔️

57

"Cal, calm down. He'll be fine." Alex said far too calmly, keeping his facade as he lied through his teeth. He had no idea where Ace was, let alone how he was. But neither of them could afford to crack, not right now.

"We don't know that Alex! He could be dead in a ditch somewhere and we'd be none the wiser." Callan's voice remained steady, never rising or falling. He blew out a breath and slummed deeper into the drivers seat, avoiding eye contact with Alex.

"Weren't you the one that wanted to prove to Zac that he didn't have to handle them on his own?" Alex began, his voice a mixture of soft and stern. "You don't get to say that and give Zac some sort of false hope, only for you to freak out the first chance you get, Callan. Pull yourself together and let's focus on where Ace could be, rather than letting your mind run wild. Sì?"

"Fine," Callan grumbled, a slight huff in his tone that momentarily had Alex comparing his mannerisms to Carters. Before Alex could annoy Callan by voicing such thoughts, the older boy gasped. "Alex..." he gulped, voice shaking. "Is that- is that your car?" He gestured with a nod to the scene less than ten meters ahead.

And just like that, whatever composure Alex had managed to maintain crumbled in less than a second at the scene before him. His car wrapped around a tree. The smell of fumes lingering in the air as hues of amber orange uplifted the darkness as the bonnet of the car ignited.

—

The smell of hot rain and acrid smoke filtered through the car vents. The engine, surprisingly, still running as the hood of the vehicle merged with the curves of the trees. Fallen branches bunched up at the base of the imploded windshield. Fragments of glass scattered over the dash board and leather seats, some tainted with blood as they embedded themselves into Ace's skin.

Moments passed silently before the sound of the engine roared in the air as it took its final breath. Like a war cry, it spluttered and shuddered before stopping all together. It was silent again, the eerie type of still silence that you'd find in horror movies just before you'd see the killer strike their latest victim.

Ace was drifting in and out of consciousness. His bleeding head was pressed firmly against the centre of the deflated air bag. His left arm bent at a very awkward angle, with his shoulder aching; a dull ache from where the seat belt no doubt saved his life. His eyes fluttered, both bloodshot red, watering as the stinging sensation intensified. He stared directly ahead, fluorescent amber trapping his blues in place as flames overtook his sight.

Ace coughed and groaned as the oily taste of smoke evaded his lungs. Each cough got stuck in the back of his throat, short, panting gasps escaping him as the smoke grew thicker.

"Shit," He pathetically wheezed, a hint of defeat in his tone as he gazed at his arm. "Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit!" His voice grew panicked, his functioning arm struggling to free the seatbelt from it's clip.

He gazed around the car searching for something that could help him. His eyes found his mangled cellphone which lay at the passenger side footwell, a hiss passing through his clenched teeth as he stared at the shattered screen. There goes his plan to call for help.

Moving his eyes ahead, squinting to see through the thickened clouds of near black smoke, his gaze lingered on a large shard of splintered glass. Gritting his teeth, Ace ignored the pain that soared through his shoulder as he forced himself forward and grabbed a hold of the shard.