She stepped out in her tailored pencil skirt, long legs crossing the distance to Cecil's side.
Her gaze fell on me in the driver's seat, battered and bleeding. Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of something almost like pain, and she took an involuntary step toward me.
"Clarence, are you... are you okay?"
But then Cecil called out to her, his voice warm and familiar. "Gretchen."
The softness in her eyes froze over. She looked at me, and when she spoke again, her voice was cold.
"Clarence, you brought this on yourself."
"You were the one in the wrong. You refused to admit it. This is the consequence."
"When the police get here, I want you to take the blame for Cecil. Tell them you're the one who hit him, because this is all your fault!"
Gretchen opened her mouth to say more, but a blinding pair of headlights suddenly appeared from behind them in the tunnel.
A car was barreling toward them, horn blaring. Its brake lights burned red, but it wasn't slowing down.
"Clarence!"
There was no time to react. I was still in the driver's seat when the impact hit.
Pain tore through me like every organ inside had been ripped loose, a searing fire burning through my core.