Falsely Accused

Gosh, the music is so fucking loud. Ian and his damn loud music. I rub my hand across the tense skin of my forehead to ease the sharp pain—a groan emits from my chapped lips.

Right eye.

Left eye.

Opening my eyes is a struggle but I manage. Everything comes into focus, slowly, making everything blurry. A coppery, metallic taste turns sour in my mouth, forcing a gag in my throat. Something trickles down my face, like a feather tickling against a nose. Dark crimson blood leaves a smear on the back of my hand.

Taking in my surroundings, I note a couple of things. Light snowfall is beginning in the early January air. All of the windows have been shattered, deep purple bruises form along my legs and arms, and lastly, we are sitting at a downward angle.

I peel myself off the leather seat—How long have I been lying here, sweating? The keys are still in the ignition, the radio blaring Kings of Leon. I shield my eyes from the bright moonlight shining down from the sunroof.

"Ian," I call out, pulling myself up to look out the windowless door in hopes of glimpsing him just outside the car, a slight sense of confusion and panic creeping into my mentality. My throat constricts the breath I attempt to take. The car is hanging off the cliff's edge, the lower body caught on a branch sticking up from the ground. I look around the vehicle; Ian is seated in the driver's seat.

A big blue, purple bruise surrounds his jaw, masking the beauty he carries. Dried blood left a trail from his ears and mouth. A large branch impales his chest, crashed through the windshield. My throat constricts, making swallowing the lump in my throat difficult.

"IAN, NO IAN" I scream and sob uncontrollably. The creaking of the car halts my violent sobs.

Smack.

He’s dead.

I pull myself together—the best I can in this situation, wiping my heartbreak from my face. I trail my eyes around the car. A gun lays on the floorboard of the back seat, shell casings scattered at my feet. I unbuckle, sucking in a breath.

I crawl onto my knees, gasping; hellfire pain radiates from my left leg. Looking down, my bone is sticking out from my leg. Black spots arise behind my eyes. My stomach churns, threatening to send up my stomach contents.

I drop my gaze to the backseat's upholstered floorboard, hoping to glimpse my cell phone. Squinting, I can barely make out its shape, wedged under the passenger seat. I maneuvered very carefully onto my stomach and slowly start crawling toward it.

Whoosh.

The wind roars, shaking the car with a fierceness, leaving me taut with fear that we’ll dislodge and plummet.

The car sways beneath my petite frame. I stop just shy of reaching for the phone. Looking to my left, I see one of Ian's wrenches within my reach. Tentatively I grasp it, moving it forward carefully to pull the phone to me. I maneuver into a sitting position, careful not to knock my injured leg into anything.

Abruptly the car gave way slightly. I scream and grip the leather seats, surely leaving nail mark impressions. The tree manages to hold the car's weight and us in it. Steading my breath, I go back to the task at hand.

"YES!” I scream out in triumph as I grip the phone into a fist. I power the phone on. Please work.

The time reads four thirty am. Everyone in quiet Hooks village is asleep, oblivious to the dangerous situation Ian and I found ourselves in.

"911, what is the location of your emergency?" The female operator on the other line answers after the third ring.

"My car is dangling off the side of the cliff. I think my boyfriend is dead" My voice catches on the last word. Ian was all I had and now he’s gone.

Now that I'm on the phone with the operator, the severity of the situation is finally kicking in. I could bleed to death up here before anyone can get to us. I scream out as a wave of pain rocks my body like an earthquake.

Panting, I say, "Please hurry."

"Okay, I have dispatched officers to your location. Do you need medical assistance?"

I pause, looking at my body for any other apparent injuries. Dark blood pours from the bone fracture.

"Ma'am, are you injured? Do you need medical attention?" The operator asks again.

"Yes," I say desperately.

My eyes weigh heavy. “Please hurry. I don't feel well." I whisper. Every bone aches from the cold. My head falls back, landing with a slight thud against the leather seat.

"They are on the way. Could you stay on the line with me? What's your name, darlin?" Light tapping filters on the other end of the phone.

I snap my head up, looking at the phone. "Violet, but can call me Vi." I said breathlessly. Keeping my eyes open is becoming extremely difficult. The smell of blood makes me regret the copious amounts of alcohol I had a few hours prior.

"Okay, Vi, my name is Kya. The officers are having a little trouble finding you. Are there any distinct landmarks or anything around you?" Kya asked.

"I'm a half mile from the walking trail, past the river going into the city. Jagged Lane leads to the cliff. The cliff that drops down fifty feet."

I heard keyboard clicks and a soft muffled voice. "Okay, Vi, that's very good. Are you able to see the officer's flashlights?" Kya asked.

If I move the car might tip over. That’s a risk too big to take.

"I can't look out. If I move too much, the car might tip down the cliff." I don't know if that's necessarily bad; I don't have any family besides Bridget. I'd give anything to feel Ians arms around my slender waist and his head softly against my chest.

"Is anyone in the car with you?" Kya asked.

"Y-y-yes.” I break down. Cade is going to kill me.

A long pause ensued before Kya said, "Okay, Violet, the officers have located you, but getting you safely will take some time. You're in quite a predicament, I'm afraid. The officers have it from here. Goodbye."

"Thank you for your help" I appreciate her efforts.

SLAP.

My cheek heats from the force of my slap..

"GET ME OUT OF HERE," I scream, banging my hand against the cold leather seat. The car sways gently from my sudden movements.

Ugly, uncontrollable sobs racked over my body

I can’t believe this has happened. A few hours ago we were celebrating getting scholarships and acceptance letters into college, now everything has changed. And not for the better.

I look down at the phone, rechecking the time. Six O’clock.

Two hours later, and I feel as if I’m dying. As if a weight is being lifted off my chest.

I open the messaging app, trying to type a message to Bridget.

'You don't know what you're talking about, Ian. You need to drop it.' The contact name of the sender is Betrayer. This is Ian’s phone.

'I KNOW WHAT HAP—The phone goes blank, the battery drained. It falls from my hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor and a gentle sway of the car.

My eyes become heavy, taking a lot more strength to keep them open than closed. Sleep seems so peaceful right about now.

❧

Beeeep.

Beeeep.

I groan at the annoying beeps from the hospital i.v. After the accident, Ian’s body was autopsied. He was murdered.

And who became the number one suspect…Me.

As if I could ever kill him. He was the love of my life, a beacon for my dying light.

Now he’s gone forever, along with our love.