We walked hand in hand toward the parking lot. I could feel the tension loosening from my shoulders just being near him. But peace, I would learn, never stayed long.
We had just reached the pedestrian lane across the main driveway when I heard the screech of tires. A flash of silver. A scream—not mine, someone else's—and then chaos.
It all happened too fast.
One second Liam was next to me. The next, he was thrown like a ragdoll.
“LIAM!”
My knees hit the asphalt before I even realized I was down. People shouted. A nurse was screaming. A car had slammed into the hospital signpost, smoke curling from its hood. Time blurred, slowed. I crawled to him, my palms scraping across the concrete.
He was still breathing.
His tiny chest moved. Blood streaked his temple, a gash splitting his eyebrow. One of his shoes had flown off. His arm bent at an angle it shouldn’t.
“Call an ambulance!” I shrieked, though we were already at a hospital. “Please, somebody help—my son—!”
Doctors and nurses rushed out, someone pulled me back as they hoisted Liam onto a stretcher.
“I’m his mother!” I screamed, trying to follow. “Let me in, I need to—he needs me!”
But a firm hand held me back.
And that’s when I saw him.
Zach.