Eliza
I decide to give Leon fifteen minutes. It means I won't pass him at any point during my drive back to Tenille's house. It means I can make sure he's safe. I don't know why he insisted upon riding his bike back to her house, but once Leon has his mind set on something, it's always hard to change it. Besides, he promised me he would take the road and be safe. And I trust him with all my heart. He's a good rider, too. I'm confident with his skillset.
When the fifteen minutes are up, I start the truck and back out of the parking spot. Although it's stopped raining, the roads are still wet and a gloomy fog has once again settled over the tops of the trees. It's also gotten significantly darker and I begin to worry about Leon as I get closer and closer to the intersection. I then tell myself to calm the hell down – he's wearing the proper attire, is visible in the streetlamps, and is extremely smart. He knows how to properly ride a bike.
But even my positive pep-talk can't calm my nerves as I sit at the red light, waiting for it to turn green. I begin to chew on my thumbnail, slowly counting down the seconds that pass. And when it finally changes, I don't skip a beat; immediately, I press my foot on the gas pedal and continue my journey back to Tenille's house.
I'm going slightly over the speed limit, but when I see the signs for the upcoming hairpin turn, I slow down. Accidents happen here every year. So, I steadily press my foot against the brake and prepare myself for the road ahead. My tires skid against the wet surface, but not like they would if the wetness were replaced with black ice; I keep control and reduce my speed to something favourable.
However, as I turn the corner, I see something no one ever wants to see. Ahead of me is a vehicle that's front has been smashed up and angled so it's blocking my side of the road. It's also compressed against the meridian. My eyes widen and I coast to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road and shifting into park. I then cut the engine and extract my phone from the console. Immediately, I call 911 and report the scene ahead of me. They tell me they'll be here as soon as possible. When that's over, I exit the truck and rush over to the car that's smashed into the meridian. I need to make sure people are okay. I have no training in medical education, but I know basic first-aid. If someone needs help, I could potentially save their life.
What I see is terrible.
There are two people inside. The driver is a male with a buzzcut. The passenger is a brunette. Both of them are bleeding, broken glass dotting their clothing and the now-decompressed airbags. I try to open the door, but my efforts are of no use. The front of the vehicle has been so severely compressed that I know the paramedics are going to need some type of special tool to get them out. Aside from their injuries, they seem okay. Both are bleeding, but they're breathing. That's a blessing in disguise.
When I turn around, searching the area for any sign of another vehicle, I see something that causes my heart to drop and my blood to run ice-cold.
I freeze, staring at the familiar mountain bike.
It's oddly bent. Bent it ways that should never be possible.
But the worst part?
Leon's not on it.
Reality snaps back the moment I realize Leon's somehow involved in this accident. With my heart pounding and my blood running cold, tears already streaming down my cheeks, I frantically search the area. He's nowhere near the vehicle, but I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse; while I'm thankful he's not stuck beneath the vehicle, I'm terrified just how much of the impact he took.
Finally, just down from the vehicle, pressed against the median barrier, I see him. He's lying on his back, unmoving. His leg is bent at an odd angle and blood leaks from a gash above his eyebrow.
"Leon!" I sob, sprinting over to him. At one point, I slip in a puddle and nearly lose my footing, but I manage to catch myself just in time.
When I come to Leon's unconscious body, I drop to my knees, ignoring the chill that engulfs my body as the water seeps through the knees of my jeans. The first thing I do is press my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse as my eyes search his body for damage. There's isn't a lot of blood – only a steady stream that drips down his temple from his brow bone. I brush his hair back. The gash is the width of my pinky finger and about an inch long. The blood flow is steady, but I'm not too concerned about it. Just like I'm not too concerned about the road rash on his arms and knees. Those kinds of injuries can heal.
Finally, I feel a weak pulse in his neck and a wave of relief washes over me. He's alive. Thank God.
"Leon," I say, gently shaking his shoulder. I know it's dangerous to move him – irreparable damage could be done – but I need to make sure he's okay. I need to make sure he's not comatose. "Come on, Leon. You need to wake up."
Tears are slipping uncontrollably down my face and my heart is pounding so hard and fast I'm afraid my rib cage is going to splinter. This can't be happening. After everything that's happened, why the hell does this have to happen? He doesn't deserve this.
Sirens sound in the distance.
I shake his shoulder again, choking on my own gasps for oxygen. My lungs are constricting and I can't inhale a good enough amount to satisfy my needs. My mind is spinning to the point where I'm sure I'm going to be sick. "Please, Leon," I sob, pressing my face into his chest. "Wake up."
Finally, he stirs.
Finally.
"Liz?" he chokes.
"Hey, hey," I whisper, my tears dripping from my chin and landing on his face. "You're going to be okay, Leon. The ambulance is on its way."
The fact that he has to put so much effort into raising his hand to rest it against my cheek is extremely concerning. Aside from the gash along his brow bone, he doesn't look too bad on the outside. But who knows what's going on inside him? Judging from where the car crashed into the barrier, Leon was hit with a remarkable force. He could be suffering heavy internal bleeding. He could have a severe concussion. For all I know, he could be paralyzed from the waist down. I hope like hell that isn't the case.
"I didn't see it coming," he rasps. "They were on the wrong side of the road. I came around the corner –" He cuts himself off with a gasp of pain, visibly cringing.
"Leon!" I exclaim, slipping my hand behind his head and cradling him close. "Are you okay?"
With his eyes squeezed shut, he shakes his head in the slightest way possible. A tear slips down his cheek. "Something's... something's wrong, Liz. The pain won't go away. It's worse than when I broke my ribs."
Just as I'm beginning to lose all hope for this situation, the sound of wailing sirens becomes louder. They're almost here. I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Listen to me, Leon. I'm asking you a lot, but I need you to keep fighting, okay? Hold on until the paramedics arrive. Fight like hell until they can get you the treatment you need. Promise me."
Despite the pain he's in, despite the gash on his brow bone, he smiles, choking on a strangled laugh. Then, he opens his eyes. As per usual, I'm caught off-guard by the remarkable colour. "I promise," he whispers, his hand aggressively shaking as he twirls his finger around my hair.
The strain in his voice worries me, but I push my worry and fear aside. I need to be strong for him right now. So, rather than focusing on everything that has the potential to break me, I lean down and kiss him directly on the lips. His lips are still warm and soft, tainted with the faint taste of salt. Being this close to him, I can also smell my own perfume on his skin, mixed with a faint hint of copper and his own cologne and the scent of damp earth.But even as I kiss him, trying to chase away the darkness of this situation, my heart begins to break. He's trying to kiss me back, but with each second that passes, I can tell he's getting weaker and weaker.
"Leon," I whisper, pulling away as a fresh wave of tears clouds my vision. The sirens are getting louder, and I can see them reflecting off the trees, making the fog look like a strobe light. I rest my hand on his cheek. His skin is cold, greyish. And his breathing sounds funny; strained and wheezy. Panic begins to bubble in my chest like an obnoxious disease. I grip his hand tightly with my free hand. "I love you. Don't forget that."
His eyes flutter closed, but there's a soft smile on his lips. "I love you, too, Liz."
Just then, the sirens become ear-piercing and the brightness of headlights skew my vision. The ambulance comes to a screeching halt and, although I'm panicking on the inside, I manage to stand up and shout, "Over here!"
Without any delay, the paramedics rush over, blessing me with a faint sense of relief.
And all I can do as I watch is hope and pray that Leon's going to be okay.