I stood there for a moment, watching the road where her car had been, the silence of the night suddenly broken by the distant hum of the city.
Then—
A screech of tires.
A crash—metal twisting, glass shattering—so violent it made my blood run cold.
I whipped around just in time to see it—Sarah's car was slammed into by a speeding truck, the impact sending her vehicle spinning like a toy before it slammed into a lamppost with a sickening crunch.
The truck didn't even brake—just reversed, tires screeching against the asphalt, before it fled into the night, leaving behind nothing but the wreckage and the acrid scent of burning rubber.
"FUCK!" The word tore from my throat, raw and guttural, as I sprinted toward the mangled car.
People from the house were already pouring out, their voices rising in panic. "It's gonna explode!" someone shouted, their phone already raised, recording, streaming—capturing every second of the chaos.
