Screams echoed behind me as the helicopter ripped itself apart.
The handbags and belongings Estelle held tore from her grip, clattering around the cabin.
The kids wailed.
The pilot cursed.
And through it all, I chanted.
Please let them live.
Please let them live.
Don’t make them pay, too.
But no answers came. Noise shattered everything.
That noise was all I would remember of the crash. Like a hurricane...no, a goddamn tornado—the god of wind had revenge on his mind.
My life was over before it even began.
I should’ve fought harder.
Started living sooner.
I should never have done what I did.
I should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.
And now, I can’t.
Regret crushed me that I wouldn’t grow old. Wouldn’t have kids or a wife.
I thought I could ignore affection—that I didn’t need it. Fuck yes, I needed it. I desperately needed it. And now, I’d never experience it.
Idiot.
Moron.
Loser.
I squeezed my eyes as the whining of engines stole my sanity.
My teeth clattered as the helicopter vibrated to a frequency guaranteed to destroy us. The earth came faster, faster, faster...we were airborne no longer.
We were no longer moving toward the world.
We were there.
We slammed into treetops, bouncing like a tombstone over trunks and twigs.
And the last thing I remembered—the final thought I had—wasn’t the answer to life’s ultimate question or peace at accepting my gruesome end.
It was the crack and shudder of trees being annihilated, carving a path of destruction, welcoming us into its home, tearing us apart piece by piece.
My head bashed against the window.
My glasses shattered.
And then...nothing.
Chapter Nine
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
All things end. All things don’t end. Love doesn’t end just because hate manifests. A tree doesn’t end just because it’s transformed into fire. Life doesn’t end just because it ceases to be what you know. Life cannot simply unexist.
So why does an ending seem like a beginning? So why are endings so damn hard to survive?
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
ONCE WITHIN A song, a girl who was terrified of everything finally found a reason to be afraid of nothing.
All my life, I’d used words to invoke emotion and deliver a scene or circumstance. I’d borrowed the power of rhythm to reveal magnitude and depth of feeling.
But this.
There were no words for this.
No beat or riff could compare.
No simple explanation of what it felt like to be torn from reality and deposited into a nightmare.
All I knew was pain.
Pain.
We crashed.
Those two words were woefully unjust.
We turned into helicopter mincemeat.
We ceased to exist as whole creatures and became splinters instead.
I didn’t see.
I didn’t understand.
I couldn’t register anything in the speed it took to go from alive to dead.
One moment, we were friends to the sky, and the next, an enemy to earth.
I couldn’t explain how we’d gone from flying to being crumpled at the bottom of a palm tree.
I couldn’t find the articulation to say how I’d survived.
All I could do was live in tragedy.
Every part of me hurt.
My chest bellowed from where my seat belt cut into my chest. My head pounded from snapping back and forth. And the terror at realising I was all alone...well, that was the worst part.
Horror crept over my injuries, hurting me right in my solar plexus.
I was the only one remaining in the helicopter.
To my left was empty. To my right was empty.
The Evermores were gone.
The pilot gone.
Galloway...gone.
My heart bled with fear, staining ribs that I was sure were broken.
Where is everybody?
My hands and feet tingled; the smell of gasoline made my vision swim.
You have to get out.
My fingers took control; my brain ignored confusion, making way for survival.
Another whiff of gasoline made my hands scramble faster. Every twist and breath killed my bleeding chest and ribs.
But I didn’t care.
Get out. Get out!
The harness snapped open; I fell sideways.
I cried as I tumbled from the empty cabin, rolling from the wreckage. The helicopter had come to a halt, resting on its side. The rotor blades were gone, the straps and pulleys of the flying mechanism were a gruesome massacre. The stab of bracken and foliage struck my palms as I crawled away from the mangled transport.
Another gasp burned through my bruised chest. Another lungful of gasoline.
Tears formed like a swelling tsunami, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until I comprehended the situation.
I was alive.
I didn’t have time for tears.
I didn’t know if the helicopter would catch fire.
I didn’t know if an explosion was imminent.
All I knew was I had to get as far away as possible...just in case.
Crawling, I inched my way along the trail path of our unscheduled landing. The scar in the earth was the perfect runway for me to follow.
My other senses returned.