His body was mangled. The dashboard of his beloved Thunderbird had crushed him when it bore the brunt of the impact.
But he was still alive.
Still breathing.
“D-Dad,” Theo croaked. “Dad.” It was all he could muster.
Henry’s chest fluttered, and he turned his head instinctively toward the sound. His right arm was outstretched toward his son, twisted and broken, but he could still move his fingers. The tips of them grazed Theo’s left cheek.
Teddy.His father’s lips formed the word, soundlessly, over and over again.
Teddy.
But then they slowed.
Ted.
Te—
T—
His chest stopped fluttering.
His arm went lax.
And then he was still.
“Dad?” Theo breathed. “Dad! DAD!No! NO!”
When he screamed, the pain rushed over him again, fully this time, slamming into him like a tidal wave, just as violently as the semitruck had slammed into their car. Nothing but pain, deep and torturous, unyielding and unending. He tried to unbuckle himself and slide over, but the second he moved, he nearly passed out again from the effort—and when he looked down, he saw why.
A tree branch, sticking straight out of his lower left abdomen.
As soon as he saw it, the sensation returned. Hefelt it, felteverythingin his body.
His face twitched, and hefeltthe metal lodged there.
The shattered bones.
The tattered car door, crushed around his right side.
Blood dripping down his trembling hand.
His chest, ripped open.
Hiship, ground into dust.
The more he saw, the more it burned, bit by bit as his brain became agonizinglyaware.
He couldn’t handle it, the sheer, overwhelming horror of it.
He lost himself to the burning dark, to the depths of hell.
But the last thing he saw, seared forever into his memory, were his father’s glassy, lifeless eyes.
Still staring straight into his own.
Eighteen
