The scorching wind surged into the car through the shattered windows, fragments of glass pelting down like hailstones. The rear tire had blown out, and Jack Hugh gripped the steering wheel, unable to control the vehicle. On a deserted suburban road, a black Lincoln kept spinning wildly.
Rosie could no longer differentiate between directions; she just knew that as long as she held onto Charles, she wouldn't lose her way. There was no time to wonder how he managed to keep his balance.
Just holding him felt reassuring.
The car spun out of control on the road. The young girl kept her eyes shut, clutching him tightly. Suddenly, Jack Hugh let out a yell, and the car smashed through the guardrail, tumbling down the hillside.
Rosie felt the presence of death. Just like in a past life, the car rolled, her body suspended weightlessly. She gazed blankly, sensing faintly that at the moment of the car's crash, Charles encircled her head with his arms.
The car piled like a heap of scrap metal at the base of the hill, with smoke swirling upwards, and the dry brush nearby catching fire due to the intense heat.
The vehicle following closely behind remained parked by the roadside for a while, but the people inside didn't approach. Their venture was extremely aggressive, yet they refrained at the critical moment, leaving their intentions unclear. If they intended to kill, a few more shots would seal the fate of even the toughest survivor.
The wreckage was unrecognizable, black smoke billowing under the scorching sun. Rosie was the first to regain consciousness—more precisely, the smoke awakened her. She opened her eyes to see Charles's face streaked with blood. Blood oozed from his temple, tracing down his pronounced brow bone and dense lashes. He was unconscious, yet his arms were wrapped protectively around her head.
Was Charles protecting her?
The girl's emotions were complicated.
"Charles? Wake up, hey!" Rosie struggled to stand from his embrace. She called out for a long time, but there was no response from Charles. The girl thought of Jack Hugh; if she could awaken him, there'd be another person to help. She ran to the driver's seat, her legs going weak at the first sight of Jack Hugh.
Jack Hugh lay sprawled over the steering wheel, blood pooling beneath him. The girl dared not move, unsure of his injuries. Blood dripped along the car door onto the dry ground. With this much bleeding, could he still be alive?
"Jack... Jack Hugh?"
Jack Hugh's condition was more severe than Charles's. She didn't dare move, sensing the situation was graver than imagined.
The girl stood beside the pile of scrap metal, an abrupt cold wind nearly toppling her unsteadily, her sleeve torn, her legs with various scrapes and bleeding slightly.
Her lips were dry as she stared at the smoking car, lost in thought. She wondered if Charles's death would be her release. It wasn't just a thought; she was ready to act on it.
The girl gritted her teeth and turned away, her resolute decisiveness all caught in Charles's barely opened eyes.
The man watched her retreating back, then tiredly closed his eyes again.
Rosie jogged despite the pain in her leg, recovering her composure only after she had run a distance. She halted, gradually awakening from a sense of liberation.
No trace of the sun remained in the sky. The girl stood on the deserted road, feeling lost. The first principle she understood from the most challenging five years of her last life was: a person must look out for themselves above all else.
She should be ruthless, cold to everything before her—that would be best.
But Charles had indeed protected her in the car accident just now.
Dark clouds slowly devoured the sun, shadows gradually covering the earth, and the shadow crept to the girl's feet.
The girl sighed, her eyes reddening as she ran back. She understood what she was torn about: if Charles hadn't protected her, she wouldn't have turned back.
She had indeed long learned that a person must look out for themselves above all, but before that, to live, one must first possess a passionate heart.
She despised ungrateful people and would never become one.
The blazing sun completely hid behind the clouds, and the sky changed quickly, turning gloomy in an instant. By the time Rosie returned to the accident scene, it had begun to drizzle.
The girl found a hard stone and smashed it against the car window with great force, tearing the skin on her palm; even though it was raining, the temperature around the car was high. Rosie had a foreboding that the car might explode.
She had to leave quickly.
"Charles! Wake up!" Rosie shouted his name while forcefully striking the glass.
Hands pried apart the shattered glass, and she moved the debris off him, but angrily exerting force didn't allow her to drag him out of the car; smashing the glass had already consumed much strength. At this moment, she was exhausted, applying strength randomly with no means to rescue.
"Charles, I'm out of strength, wake up." Her voice was muffled, seemingly in tears.
Despite saying she was out of strength, she kept trying to drag Charles out.
The man was awakened by piercing cries, his vision initially blurry before gradually clearing, "Don't cry, it's ugly."
Hearing Charles's voice, Rosie immediately collapsed onto the ground, her voice hoarse and hurried: "You're awake. How do you feel? Are you dying?"
"......" Charles's temples throbbed. He was in a bad state, waking up unexpectedly. The man, looking at the woman who had lost all image, crying on the ground, closed his eyes.
Hadn't she left? Why did she come back?
"Charles? Charles! Weren't you awake? Why are you closing your eyes again? Open your eyes, quickly!" The young girl shook his arm, fearing he would pass out again.
Charles sighed lightly: "Stop shaking."
The girl let go, sitting with her mouth pouted on the side. The rain grew heavier, drowning out her sobs. Charles clenched his teeth, the wound on his forehead stinging uncomfortably as the rain washed over it.
In a haze, Charles felt something tugging at his clothing. He struggled to open his eyes, seeing the young girl's pale, slender hand. She repeated, "Charles... don't sleep."
He closed his eyes before opening them again with effort; she could irritate anyone's patience under any circumstances.
The man felt his head would explode, eyelids half-drooped, using all his strength: "If you don't want me to die, how about calling 911?"
The girl quietly looked at him, her inner voice saying if he died that would be good, but in reality, she promptly opened her phone and made the call.
Charles chuckled faintly. All his life, he couldn't escape car accidents. More than a decade ago, his mother died saving him in one. Now, though delayed, this young girl was saving him too.
A moment later, the girl lay in the grass, panting heavily, beside her lay two bleeding men. The rain intensified, smacking her face, momentarily clearing her mind. Hearing the ambulance sirens approaching, she finally closed her eyes slowly.