On the Eve of Dusk

The Accident

When I opened my eyes Monday morning, something was different. It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window. I jumped up to look outside and then groaned in horror. 

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my mother's minivan, and whitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from Sunday had frozen solid- coating the needles in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick.

 I had enough trouble not falling when the ground was dry; it would have been safer for me to go back to bed right then and there. But I knew my mother would probably murder me if I tried. So I bore the awful morning, feeling a creeping feeling of something going to go wrong. 

Breakfast was fine, easy as always. Oatmeal. Perfectly normal. My outfit wasn't uncomfortable, or ugly. There was nothing wrong with my black skinny jeans and soft blue hoodie. My boots were slip-resistant, but I knew that wouldn't help me all that much. Constant inner ear infections ruined my balance a long time ago. Mom had me in ballet classes when I was little. It didn't help. 

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive, to Charlie and Dahlia waiting in the warmed cruiser. Charlie clearly had no problem with the black ice that covered the roads, but he still drove very slowly, probably not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Mainstreet. 

Upon getting dropped off right in the parking lot- my sister's worry for my balance outweighing our combined embarrassment of being dropped off by ur police-chief stepfather- Dahlia disappeared into the gym and I headed toward Mike, where he sat in his own large pickup.

 I was about to open my mouth to ask him about his weekend when his eyes widened in terror. There was an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I turned, startled. I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies. 

Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once. Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the breaks, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. The ice Charlie had been so careful to avoid. The ice Dahlia grabbed my shoulder to steady me on.

 The van was going to hit Mike's truck, and I was standing between them. 

I didn't have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck cab, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My face suddenly came into harsh contact with a yellow rain slicker and something cold pinned me to the ground. I couldn't breathe very well, but I could smell Cologne, and I could feel a cold hand cradling the back of my head. I ripped my neck sideways to see behind me, just in time to see the van coming again. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, would collide with me, If Edward wasn't kneeling in front of me. His arms shot out protectively, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from the three of us. His delicate-looking hands left a pair of matching dents in the side of the van's body. He turned so fast, he blurred. His hands were suddenly in my hair, checking my scalp for wounds. His eyes burned with worry, but he avoided mine, looking everywhere else. 

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear. "Is she okay?" and the person holding me released their grip.