I can’t breathe. I pump my arms and legs.
I’m not going to get to her in time.“Molly!”
My world implodes.
Impact—bones, crushing against metal. A windscreen cracks and shatters. There is a brief moment of silence, my ears go numb, and then I’m screaming.
Chapter Fifty-Six
OLLY
It was clear as day. He arrived out of his face. I see enough people intoxicated to know the signs. The guy needs help—Molly and Rachel don't deserve this. And what happens when she gets older? I have to count back from ten to keep myself from following them.
"Your mummy just needs to talk to your daddy real quick," Sophie says to Molly, who keeps peering out the window.
"Why?"
“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetie. How about a cupcake?" Sophie asks, trying to distract her.
It does the trick; Molly smiles. "Can I have the chocolate, please?"
"Yes, of course." Sophie goes behind the counter, and I walk over to the window to see that they're now across the road.
Rachel has her hand pressed against his chest. She reaches behind him, and then dangles some keys in front of his face.
"Molly," Sophie says, just as the bell chimes and Molly darts out the door.
In the time it takes me to pull it open and follow her, she's already stepping down from the curb and into the road.
I hear Rachel’s frantic scream, see the car coming.
I focus solely on Molly, rushing after her and into the road.
I grab her into my arms, probably too harshly, and angle her away from the oncoming car. It cracks against my legs, lifting me off the ground and slamming me into the windscreen. And then we’re in the air. Before I can think, I'm falling towards the ground.
I collide with the unforgiving surface at my shoulder. It scrapes and burns as I roll onto my back.
All the air is forced from my lungs as my head ricochets into the ground. My teeth clamp together with such force, I bite the inside of my mouth or my tongue. The taste of blood floods my mouth, my neck jars awkwardly.
I can't hear anything over the sound of my pulse in my ears at first, and then it’s replaced by screams and people shouting.
Molly clings to my shirt.
I remember the night of the fire. I can still smell the scorching flames and burnt flesh as I carried Lottie from the house. I wouldn't let her go. I thought she was dead. The paramedic had to pry her from my arms so they could get me treatment.
"It's okay, son. She's crying, let us help you."
"But she's dead," I said.
"No, son, she's crying, she's alive."
I cradle Molly's head beneath my bloody hands. Her sobs vibrate through my chest, and I know she's alive.
Thank God.
I try to breathe, to comfort her, but my limbs are weighted and no longer my own. I can’t find my voice to ease her distress.
Dark spots begin to overtake my vision.
