Page 85 of The Ruin I Chose

He pinched out the picture, revealing an article.

Truck crashes into woman’s car late night. Driver flees.

My vision started to blur as my breath hitched.

“Who?”

Santino looked at me, eyes glassy, almost like he was about to cry. He swallowed hard. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The winding road of the car was starting to make me nauseous—for the first time.

“Who?” I asked again, clenching my fists, voice almost roaring.

Santino swiped the screen. I stared at the screen, hands trembling. The air suddenly got thin, and I could barely gulp in breaths. I felt like I was drowning—only there was no water.

I took off my scarf.

“Stop… stop the car.” I managed to gasp out.

I fumbled with the door and crawled out, trying to take in deep breaths. Santino got out and tried to place a hand on my back. I brushed it off and collapsed beside the car. The floor beneath my feet shifted. Like the mountain itself had turned against me.

My legs gave out. My chest seized. I thought—this is it. This is how I die.

I could hear Martin cursing about the reception at this altitude. Santino crouched beside me. My vision was spotty. I tried to look out at the black of the mountains.

My chest kept tightening. I clenched my teeth and tried to suck in more air, desperately failing. But air refused to come.

I felt like I was falling into a deep void. I clawed at the walls of the void, but they collapsed inward—sucking me deeper, burying me alive.

Santino’s face appeared at the edge of the void.

“Marcello—”

I couldn’t hear him. I looked at him, face swimming into focus as he shook my shoulders. I suddenly felt the cold biting me.

“Devo vederla,” I whispered.

“Devo vederla… devo… ve… derla”

Darkness cradled me. This was the end. My end. There was so much I didn’t do, didn’t say to her.

My eyes opened barely, and I could hear a commotion. Then slipped back into the dark. The whir of helicopter blades. Flashing lights. A blur of motion. Then—darkness again.

I stood in a dark, cold room with stone walls. The ceiling arched high, tunnelling upward. A single skylight filtered grey light into the centre of the room.

Suddenly, a gurney appeared in the middle of the room. It hadn’t been there before. The skylight’s beam fell directly on the gurney. I walked slowly towards it. Empty.

I turned, scanning the shadows. I looked down again. This time—there was a body. My breath thinned. With trembling hands, I slowly lifted the crisp white cover.

Roxanne.

My forehead got sweaty and hands clammy. A bead of sweat slid down my temple, dropping onto her forehead. Blood oozed where my sweat touched her. Like guilt made flesh. Then blood spilled from her eyes. Her nose. Her mouth.

My breath became ragged. I could barely hold myself upright. I clutched the gurney, bent over, gripping my chest. I couldn’t breathe.

I could hear a voice in the distance saying, “Breathe in… 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold…”

My skull throbbed. A shooting pain erupted from my forehead to the crown—like my head was splitting down the middle into two.

I looked up at Roxanne’s lifeless body.