Part I: 9

25 4 2
                                    

nine

JORDAN

Darkness.

Why is it so dark? My eyes are open but I can't see anything.

"Jordan? Jordan, are you okay?"

Confused, I look up and spots of my vision emerge and come together to form the shape of Mom's face.

Her face.

She's trembling. Her eyes are watery and the colour of her face is a faint grey. But there's a pool of blood on the right side of her forehead, glistening red, and I wince when I see it.

"Mom." My voice croaks out, when suddenly an acute pain soars through the left side of my chest, making me flinch. I grit my teeth in agony, unable to move. My hands immediately move to clasp over my ribs but my left hand feels stiff as if invisible chains are keeping it shackled it to the dashboard. I can't move. My breathing deepens, my lungs desperate to get what little air there is inside the car, into my body.

"Mom, what happened?" I ask, disorientated and unable to look away from my swollen hand. Although I know the answer, hearing Mom say it aloud would do something to lead me out of the shock.

"We hit somebody." Mom's voice gets increasingly frantic. "Jordan, I'm scared. What have I done? I don't see anyone." Her voice trails away and I follow her gaze through the windshield, but there's nothing to see other than the car's headlights beaming through the darkness.

So we listen. We stay still and quiet, listening for a cry or a groan. The moment lasts forever, but there is nothing. No sound. And suddenly everything seems too real and too impossible at the same time.

"Jordan, what should we do?" Mom's words are pleading, her voice quivering.

"Ssh, it's okay. Stay inside." I swallow the lump in my throat. "I'll go check."

These Broken Souls | COMING SOONWhere stories live. Discover now