Chapter 4

A part of me, the cowardly part, wanted to stay in the car. It wanted me to pretend I didn't hold the ugly truth on my phone. Showing Eleanor that video now, in the middle of this wreckage, would be like pouring gasoline on a fire. Her husband was hurt, her world was collapsing, and confirming that her son' s betrayal was the direct cause of it all felt like a cruelty beyond imagination. The conflict tore through me. My loyalty was to them, to the kind people who had been a second family to me my whole life. But the truth was a heavy, sharp-edged rock in my gut.

My dad was already on the phone with 911, his voice urgent and clear, relaying our location. My mom was out of the car, her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

"We have to help them!" she cried.

Before the first responders could arrive, Mark stumbled out of the driver's side door. He had a bloody gash on his forehead, but he seemed to be moving.

"Eleanor," he choked out, turning back to the passenger side. "Eleanor's not moving."

That's when my hesitation vanished. I ran to the passenger door. It was jammed, bent inward from the impact. Through the shattered window, I could see Eleanor slumped against the dashboard, unconscious. The sight erased every other thought from my mind.

This was the consequence. This was the real-world result of Liam's selfish games and Brittany's petty cruelty. It wasn't just a drama on social media anymore. It was twisted metal, shattered glass, and the smell of gasoline. It was the possibility of a woman I loved like an aunt dying because her son couldn't be a decent human being.

Just as this thought crystallized, another disaster struck. The pickup truck that had caused the initial accident, which had screeched to a halt a block away, suddenly lurched forward.

The driver, panicked or drunk, slammed on the gas instead of the brake. The truck shot forward, its tires spinning, and rammed directly into the back of our car, which we had left parked on the road.

The impact was violent. I was standing right beside Mark and Eleanor' s car, and the force of the secondary collision threw me forward. My head hit the damaged car frame hard. A flash of white light exploded behind my eyes. The world spun, a dizzying, nauseating vortex of sound and color. My knees buckled, and I felt myself falling.

The ground was wet and cold against my cheek. For a few seconds, everything went black. I was floating in a silent, painless void. Then, consciousness returned in a painful rush. My head throbbed with a blinding pain. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my body screaming in protest. The world was upside down. Or maybe I was. It took me a moment to realize I was lying on the pavement, looking up at a chaotic sky.

I could hear sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer. I saw flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the wet asphalt. A man' s face appeared above me, a stranger, his mouth moving.

"Are you okay? Can you hear me? Don't move. Help is coming."

I blinked, trying to focus. My vision was blurry. I saw my dad kneeling beside my mom, who was now sitting on the curb, crying. I saw Mark, dazed, being led away from his car by another bystander. The scene was a blur of panic and flashing lights. And through the haze of pain and confusion, a single, cold thought solidified in my mind: Liam had to know. He had to be held accountable for this. The time for protecting anyone's feelings was over.