"When the police get here, I want you to take the blame for Cecil. Tell them you're the one who hit him, because this is all your fault!"
Gretchen opened her mouth to say more, but a blinding pair of headlights suddenly appeared from behind them in the tunnel.
A car was barreling toward them, horn blaring. Its brake lights burned red, but it wasn't slowing down.
"Clarence!"
There was no time to react. I was still in the driver's seat when the impact hit.
Pain tore through me like every organ inside had been ripped loose, a searing fire burning through my core.
That rear-end collision was only the beginning. One after another, more cars slammed into the wreckage.
The back half of my car crumpled under the relentless impacts, twisting into a mangled heap along with my father-in-law's body. Blood seeped steadily from the wreckage, pooling bright red on the asphalt.
The tunnel had descended into chaos. Vehicles collided in every direction, and the wail of police sirens echoed from somewhere behind the pileup.
Cecil's face had gone white as chalk. He tugged frantically at Gretchen's sleeve.
"Gretchen, this is bad. We need to go. Now!"
I locked eyes with Gretchen, too weak to speak.
She stared at the blood-slicked metal rod that had punched clean through my abdomen, her expression caught between panic and indecision.
But in the end, she gritted her teeth, turned away, and led Cecil to the Ferrari. They drove off.
Before she left, she said:
"Clarence, Cecil can't get arrested. He can't have a criminal record. His entire future depends on it!"
"You're different. The police are almost here. They'll save you."
A broken laugh escaped my throat.
There was a time when Gretchen would panic over a kitchen knife nicking my finger while I cooked.
Now she stood there, watched a steel rod impale me through the gut, and left me to die so Cecil could walk free.
I looked at what remained of my father-in-law's body. Barely recognizable.
In that moment, something inside me finally went dark.
...
Gretchen drove Cecil to a small motel tucked away in the mountains.
For three days, she kept every device powered off. Not a single call answered, not a single message checked.
But for reasons she couldn't explain, a gnawing unease had settled into her chest, as though something terrible was waiting just around the corner.
She turned on the television, restless and unable to sit still.
A news report froze her where she stood. The glass of water in her hand slipped and shattered against the floor.
"According to reports, the chain-reaction pileup in a highway tunnel three days ago has resulted in two fatalities and multiple injuries. One of the deceased has been identified by the surname Gilbert. The other, by the surname Frost..."
