“Carrie,” I whisper, lifting my fingers to her face.
She gurgles a response. Blood oozes from her mouth, spilling onto my jeans, and making it impossible for me to understand her words.
My eyes flicker to the right, finding Rebel with her head resting against the window of the car. Blood is dripping from her chin, plopping onto her T-shirt and seeping into the material.
I grab her wrist, pressing two fingers below her palm, looking for a pulse. I exhale when I find it, strong and steady, beating normally.
“Mello!” I yell.
He doesn’t move.
No one does.
Carrie and I are the only ones awake, and in this moment, we’re totally alone.
“Stay with me, baby. Don’t talk,” I beg her as she struggles to breathe. “Help’s coming.”
But none is.
The road near the cabin is as empty as it always is. No one will find us for hours out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Mel!” I yell again, lifting my hand from Carrie’s face and placing it on his shoulder, giving him a shake.
He stirs, not speaking right away. As he blinks, his eyes soak in the reality, despite the air bag blocking most of his view.
“What the…” he says as his voice drops to a whisper when he turns his head, noticing Carrie’s body not where it was a few moments ago.
“Call 9-1-1, brother. Call fast.”
“Is she alive?” he asks, lifting his ass and retrieving his phone from his back pocket.
“She is,” I whisper, going back to softly brushing my fingertips over her forehead, soothing her.
But she won’t be alive for long. That much I know. Not with the amount of blood she’s losing and her inability to breathe.
The ambulance is useless, but I don’t want her to know that or my brother.
“Make the call, Mel,” I tell him, keeping my voice low and even for Carrie’s sake. “This is so fucked up,” I mutter to myself, wishing I could make everything different.
I am powerless and helpless, knowing she’ll die in my arms.
Mello’s on the phone, talking to someone and rambling about what happened.
Tears are streaming down the sides of Carrie’s face as she stares up at me with her green eyes.
She says something, words I can’t make out but wish I could.
“Shh, baby. Don’t talk.” I continue stroking her face as gently as possible, hoping she knows I’m here. “Just stay with me. You’re going to be okay,” I lie.
Our eyes are locked, saying all the things that can possibly be said in a moment like this without speaking a single word.
Fear.
Remorse.
Sadness.
Anger.
Worry.
Pain.
Terror.
Suddenly, her body stills, her eyes still fixed on mine but no longer filled with life.
Mello’s girl has taken her last breath and died in my arms.
“Is she…” he says as the phone drops from his hand.
“Yeah, brother. She’s gone.”
His eyes widen, and the color drains from his face. “This is my fault. I killed her,” he whispers.
“Mello, none of this is your fault.”
He grabs his head, rocking back and forth. “I was driving. Oh my God. I killed her. I killed her.”
“Stop,” I demand, pinned by Carrie’s body, unable to shake sense into him. “You can’t control nature.”
Fucking wildlife.
Three deer ran into the middle of the road, and Carmello swerved, trying to avoid hitting them but smashing into a tree instead.
No matter who had been behind the wheel, the outcome most likely would’ve been the same.
“Rebel?” he asks, his gaze moving to her body next to me.
I reach to my side, wrapping my fingers around her wrist to find her pulse again. “Alive,” I breathe.
My fingers are still stroking Carrie’s forehead. I know she isn’t here and can’t feel what I’m doing, but it doesn’t matter.
I can’t stop myself from repeating the movement over and over again until the faint sounds of sirens fill the air.
“Rocco?” Rebel whispers, finally coming to.
She’d been sedated. Too distraught to sit still and crying uncontrollably. The medical staff thought it would be in her best interest to keep her calm and still until they knew the extent of her injuries.
I lift my head from her bed, touching her hand, and I see her confusion. “Reb, you’re okay, baby,” I reassure her.
“What happened?” She tries to sit up and winces, collapsing back into the hard mattress. “Where’s Carrie?”
My fingers tighten around hers, sweeping my thumb across the soft skin on top of her hand. “We were in an accident. There were deer, and Carmello swerved.”
“Where’s Carrie?” she asks again, but this time, there’s more panic in her voice. She moves her gaze around frantically, searching for her friend, but there’s no one here but us.
“She…” My voice drifts off, the words stuck in my throat.
Fuck. How do you tell someone their best friend died? I’ve never had to deliver that news. Never thought it was something I’d do at my age.
“She’s what?” Her eyes widen, and she tries to move again.
I raise my other hand to her shoulder, guiding her back down to the bed. “Reb, she’s gone, baby. She didn’t make it. I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t lie to me. Where is she?” Rebel asks, squirming underneath the pressure of my hand.
“Stop moving, Reb. You have some bruised ribs from the seat belt, and you messed up your wrist. The doctor said he’ll be back in with the rest of your test results soon while we wait for your aunt to get here.”
Rebel’s eyes fill with tears as she stares at me, her gaze looking right through me. “She can’t be gone. She can’t be gone. She can’t be gone.”
“She is,” I tell her, not knowing if I’m doing the right thing by telling her the truth.
She’s already in physical pain, and now I’m adding mental anguish to the mix.
Her mouth opens and I think she’s going to howl, but no sound comes out. Tears pour from her eyes as she cries in silence, the noise stuck in her throat.
I stand and insert myself into the bed, placing my arm on the pillow above her head. She curls into me, pressing her face into my chest.
I stay still, rubbing her back, letting her work through her grief and the sad reality that someone who was with us an hour ago is no longer breathing.
I haven’t fully processed Carrie’s death myself, and I am the one who watched her life drift away right in front of my eyes.
Rebel tips her head back, her water-filled blue eyes staring into mine, my T-shirt fisted in her palm. “Maybe they were able to bring her back. Maybe they…”
I shake my head. “They couldn’t, honey.” I stroke her hair, brushing it away from her damp cheeks. “She died in my arms. There was nothing anyone could do to save her.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her they didn’t even try when they arrived on the scene. Carrie had been dead too long and had lost too much blood at that point for them to go above and beyond, trying to bring her back to life.