Page 88 of Eleanor & Grey

Are you okay?

I need to know you’re okay.

Dammit, let me go!

I yanked the seat belt harder and harder, using all the force I could muster, and it finally released. I reached for Nicole, but she kept shaking her head. “The girls, the girls,” she cried, her voice pained with fear and aches of the unknown.

I slammed my body against the door, again and again. When it finally budged, I tried to hurry out of the car, but my legs gave out on me.

I forced myself to stand and I checked on Lorelai. Even though she was crying, she seemed okay. Then, I went to find her sister. I hurried through the blinding rain in search of my daughter. “Karla!” I called once, twice, a million times. There was no reply, nothing to be heard. The thoughts that raced through my head were unwelcome, and it took everything in me to keep from falling apart.

She’s here. She’s okay. She’s here. She has to be.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed 9-1-1.

No signal.

Dead zone.

I felt sick but couldn’t just stand there and keep trying to dial the number. I had to find my daughter.

I kept shouting. I needed her to hear me. She had to be there. People didn’t just disappear.

When I turned to my right, I saw her, a small figure sprawled out in front of two trees. There was blood on the tree in front of her, as if she slammed directly into it. She looked so small and still.

So very still.

The stillness was what scared me the most.

“No…” I whispered, hurrying over and falling down beside her. “Karla, it’s me, it’s Dad. Wake up, honey. Wake up,” I begged as tears streamed from my eyes, intermixing with the rain that mocked us as it fell from the sky. “Karla, wake up. You’re okay, alright? We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.”

“Oh, my God,” a voice called out. I turned around to see headlights shining toward me as someone walked forward. “Are you okay, sir?” the stranger asked.

I narrowed my eyes at the figure as it grew closer. “We need help,” I cried, thankful to see him. “I can’t g-get a signal, c-can’t call for help.”

“Okay, okay.” He nodded once, his fear setting in as his eyes fell on Karla. The way he stared showed me the truth I knew—she wasn’t okay. I couldn’t deal with that idea, though.

“She’s fine. She’s okay,” I promised, even though my promises were much more likely lies.

“You’re bleeding,” the man said quietly, his tone coated in concern.

What? No.

I unbuttoned my jacket and touched my side, crimson staining my fingertips.

My eyes glazed over as I looked down to my white shirt, which was tainted red. Realization set in as my body began to sting with pain. Vomit began to rise from the pit of my stomach as the man moved in closer. “Let me help you.”

“No, I’m okay,” I told him, feeling far from fine. I felt sick, nauseous, faint. “Just go call for help.”

“But—”

“Please!”

He nodded in agreement and hurried away.

I kept holding my daughter in my arms, lowering my forehead to hers, wanting nothing more than for her to be okay, for her to open her eyes, to look my way and tell me she was going to be okay, but she couldn’t. So, I kept repeating the words over and over again. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

She couldn’t hear me.

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