DAYA: Will you come over?
DAYA: I’d really appreciate it.
I frown, both confused and worried. We haven’t spoken since we parted ways earlier, after the police collected all of our evidence. She had to go to her niece’s birthday party, and I haven’t spoken with her since.
Tapping the Call button, I bring the phone to my ear and sit up. The phone just rings before the automated message comes up.
My heart starts to pound as I swing my legs over the bed and pad over to my dresser, rummaging through the drawers until I find sweatpants and a hoodie.
I call Daya’s phone two more times, and by the time the automated message kicks on, I’m panicking.
Swiping my keys from by the front door, I rush out of the house and into my car. It’s sprinkling outside, the rain pattering lightly against the windows as I race down my long driveway and towards Daya’s house.
During the drive, I call her phone several more times. But she never answers.
When I’m a few miles away, I notice headlights behind me closing in. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I step on the gas further, a sinking feeling in my chest.
Something about this isn’t right.
Daya would never text me to come over and then ignore me.
And the car behind me is becoming dangerously close, nearly disappearing behind the back of my car.
“What the…”
I’m violently jerked forward, my head nearly smacking off the steering wheel. A startled scream slips free as my car starts to spin.
I regain control of the car, stepping on the gas harder and attempting to gain some space between us. I scramble for my phone but realize it’s on the floor of the passenger seat.
It must’ve flown from my hand when the van crashed into me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Who the fuck is after me? It could be Max, finally getting his revenge for a murder I had nothing to do with. Or it could be the men Mark sicced on me. Finally coming to collect me.
The rev of their engine is my only warning. This time, I’m prepared for the hit, despite the force of it still taking my breath away.
Before I can wrangle control over the vehicle, they're crashing into me again. My car whips side-to-side as I fight for control. My chest pumps with adrenaline and panic, and dread has started to form in the pit of my stomach. I have a sinking feeling that I’m not going to be able to get out of this.
My gas pedal can’t go down any further, and the higher the speed, the more I lose control.
It takes one more hit before I go careening off the side of the road and into a ditch. My world spins as the bumper of my car hits the ditch at an angle before my car upends, flipping over on itself twice before landing harshly on the roof.
The impact is deafening as the windows explode. Glass shards blast against me from all directions, slicing my skin to shreds.
When everything settles, I realize I’m still screaming.
I suck in a sharp breath, the sound nearly animalistic as panic takes over. I’m upside down, still strapped into my seat. The seatbelt is di
gging painfully into my chest, constricting my already tight lungs further.
“You hit her too hard,” a voice calls from somewhere outside my car. “Shit, check to make sure she’s not dying, you fucking idiot.”
Just as the voice filters through, so does the pain.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body pulsating with sharp agony. I moan as the feeling worsens until I can’t think past my broken body.
A head appears in my window. I meet the gaze of a man with darker skin and bottomless black eyes.