Click

She must've fallen asleep and lost control, veering her rental car into the deep snowy ditch before going airborne, skidding over a thankfully frozen pond and into the dense forest just beyond. She lost track of how many times she rolled, her brain slamming into her skull back and forth until she was no longer conscious.

Looking at the mess of the car, it's a wonder that anyone survived it. It's quiet now, save for the hissing of the radiator as it spews over the heated engine.

She tries to speak but only a muffled choke passes her lips. She knows she must get help, but she doesn't know how. She can’t remember where she is or where she was heading.

Stepping away from what is left of the car, she turns to see the road. There is no crunching of snow under her feet. It is strange to be barely making a sound...she thinks. How will anybody hear me?

As the road inches closer to her, the cold is replaced by a soft heat. She should be shivering, but it's so warm. Headlights on the road flash, big ones, close and closer still. She lifts her hand and wonders why she wants so desperately to touch the lights.

The separate headlights now merge into one beautiful ball of light, warm and pulsing with a soft glow. How beautiful those lights are. The road seems to drift away like mist as she steps towards the light. She knows she can find help here, but for what? Why did she need help? She shakes her head at the confusion but continues to move forward towards the light; it is all she knows at the moment, the only place she wants to go.

Behind her, she hears a clicking noise.

Click. Click. Click.

She looks down at her left wrist, but she isn't wearing a watch.

Click.

Another step towards the light.

She begins to feel the warmth behind her, caressing the back of her neck, tickling the curve of her spine.

Another step.

Another click.

The light dims for a moment. As it does, heat blasts against her skin, blowing her hair into her face and forcing her to stumble.

Staggering back to her full height, the light begins to glow brightly again, only now with more color: a deep red, pulsing like the sun as it swirls in front of her.

If only she can reach it, touch it, so she can know what it is...

And then it hits. Her body is jolted with the most horrific lightning. Raw, gruesome pain forces the breath from her lungs in a silent shriek and knocks her feet out from under her.

She looks down to the pain. Wrapped around her chest is a tether of spikes, each one crushing into her body as she struggles to take in breath. The tether jerks her back each time she tries to stand, pulling her, dragging her away from the road, and away from the lustrous comfort of the light. Each tug is a brutal burst of pain, and her neck cracks with each heave.

The final jerk of her weighted chain snaps her awake. She is partially blinded by a dark, sticky mass crusted to her face. Her arms are heavy and she can’t feel her legs.

The pain is visceral, right at the core of her very being. Every nerve ending in her body is either screaming, throbbing, or both. Her breathing is labored, but she is grateful she can still see the shadow of its vapor as it leaves her body in tiny clouds.

‘Alive. I am still alive,' she thinks.

She reaches up to push aside the blackness covering her face when she can suddenly taste it. Her brain is slow to realize it is blood, thick and coppery, tiny rivers of it leaking out across her eyes.

"Miss, can you hear me?"

The deep voice startles her and her neck pops as she tries to turn her face towards it.

"No, don't move. You've suffered a terrible wreck and are pinned in your vehicle. Can you tell me your name?" The man reaches in and cradles his hands on either side of her face, holding her neck steady.

She tries to speak, but her voice is only a crackling sound. She tries to reach for her phone in her front jacket pocket but instead feels a strange, foreign texture, an odd barrier. Shifting only her gaze down towards her blocked hand, her vision comes into focus on an enormous tree branch jutting out of her chest.

The blood curdling scream ringing from the car causes every responder to stop in their tracks. One man drops his medical bag and the tow truck driver covers his ears as the scream pierces the soul of everyone present. The wail lasts for just a few seconds, but reverberates through the snow covered forest and across the frozen pond for what seems like hours.

Then silence.

*****

She wakes many days later, the beeping of the machines keeping a quick rhythm with her pulse. Every bit of her body aches, from her toes to the tips of her fingers. She struggles to open her eyes fully. As she shields her face from the glare of the windows, they slowly start to adjust to the stark bright light of the room.

She feels fuzzy, and her head is groggy. The pungent smell of antiseptic helps her battle the fog of sleep as she realizes she is in a hospital bed. Pressing the button to help her sit up, the bed creaks to life, slowly inching her up to a more comfortable eye level.

Shifting herself is an awesome challenge. Pain radiates down her arms and across her chest. Her nose is cold from the nasal cannula blowing oxygen directly into her face, so she tugs it away.

She suddenly remembers the accident; she recalls the violent pain of the extraction from the tangled steel of the sedan she was driving. She places a hand on her sternum where she feels the most pain and touches a large pad of cotton. She steels herself to look at the wound, pulling on the front of the paper hospital gown and peering down. Opening her mouth to gasp at the enormous bruise and blood still soaking the gauze is a terrible mistake.

The instant the air touches her lungs she explodes into a horrific coughing fit, expelling blood and bits of god-knows-what onto the thin cotton blanket covering her legs. The machines hooked up to her body go wild as she panics and coughs up more and more bloody chunks of herself. Her stomach begins to heave with bile in concert with each gurgled gasp.

A flurry of nurses rushes to her bedside, pulling away sheets and blankets, and soothing voices push her back against the pillows. One nurse inserts a syringe into one of the many tubes protruding from her arms.

Immediately her coughs begin to subside, the pain recedes in outbound waves, and the damn nasal tubing is replaced.

"It's alright Anna, just relax," a calming voice says.

‘Who is Anna?’ she wonders, but can’t form the words to pass her lips.

"Rest, it's alright. You're safe here," the voice assures again.

Safe. Safe.

She keeps repeating that word over and over in her mind until the darkness of sleep pushes her into unconsciousness.