I saw George scramble out of the driver's side window, cutting his hand on the broken glass. He fell onto the wet road, then scrambled to the passenger side. He ripped the door open.
"I've got you," he panted, pulling Donna out. She was clutching her stomach, wailing.
"George..." I whispered, reaching a hand out toward the gap between the seats. "Help me... I'm stuck..."
George looked back.
His face was illuminated by the headlights of the truck. He saw me. He saw the blood on my face. He saw the smoke curling around my legs.
He hesitated.
"George, please," I begged. "The car... it’s going to catch fire."
He looked at Donna, who was sobbing about her baby—his baby. Then he looked at me.
"I..." He took a step back, supporting Donna. "I have to get her to the hospital. She’s bleeding, Eliza!"
"What about me?" I cried, the smoke stinging my lungs.
"I'll come back for you!" he yelled over the sound of the rain. "Just wait! I'll come back!"
He turned around.
He didn't look back. He helped Donna toward the truck driver who was running over, leaving me trapped in the twisted metal.
"George!" I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the night.