No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

The crash was like my worst nightmare come to life, something I never imagined I'd actually experience.

The desperation I felt was profound, mirroring what my parents must have felt years ago.

No, their despair would have been even greater, dying from their injuries.

My thoughts were a jumbled mess, but thankfully, Ernest was there, constantly reassuring me. "Licia, don't be scared. Help's already on its way, and I'm coming too."

His words were a lifeline, urging me to try and escape the wreck. But no matter how hard I tried, the doors wouldn't budge.

"Stop, it hurts," Conrad's pained whisper stopped me in my tracks.

Hearing him, I dared not move or even speak.

"Licia, why aren't you talking? Are you okay?" Ernest's worried voice came through, seeking my response.

"I'm okay," I whispered back, trying to keep my voice down.

"Check if the car's caught fire or if you can smell gas," Ernest instructed, concern evident in his voice.

His words sent a chill through me. If the car was to catch fire, we'd have no chance of survival.

Trying to assess the situation, I shifted my body to look forward, but the slightest movement made the car sway, and suddenly, the world started spinning again.

"Ah!" I screamed, instinctively reaching for something-anything-to hold onto.

The tumbling stopped almost as quickly as it had started, but I was left feeling utterly lost until I heard Ernest's voice calling out, "Licia, Licia..." Was Ernest calling for me? Where was my phone?

The rollover had flung my phone out of my grasp, lost to some unknown corner. All I could do was shout back, "Ernest, the car flipped again." "Ernest, please get someone to save us, hurry," I pleaded, the fear making me hysterical.

Fear of death is instinctual, and I was not ready to die in such a senseless way.

I didn't dare to look outside, terrified of seeing flames engulfing the car.

Then, a finger hooked mine, drawing

my attention. I looked up to see Conrad's face, half-covered in blood that seemed to be flowing from a

wound on his head.

"Felicia, it hurts so much. I'm so tired. Just talk to me," he murmured, his voice weak.

I knew from movies that those severely injured or close to death often felt an overwhelming tiredness.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

My heart sank. I reached out with my other hand, but hesitated, unsure where to place it.

"Conrad, I'm going to try and stop the bleeding," I said, desperately searching the car for something to use as a bandage, but coming up empty.

"It's okay, just keep talking to me," Conrad's voice was barely a whisper.

Ignoring his protests, I took off my own shirt and pressed it against the wound on his head.

"Conrad, stay awake. Ernest said help is on the way," I said, trying to stay calm despite the fear.

Conrad didn't respond, his eyes closed. I shook him gently, "Don't you..."

Before I could finish, he groaned, "It hurts..."

I checked his wound again, realizing. the pain must be coming from more than just his head. The sight of his body, trapped and immobile, made my heart clench.

"I'll stay still, but you can't fall asleep," I pleaded, looking at his face. Even covered in blood, his features were as familiar as ever.

He had lost weight, something I'd noticed before but now, up close, it was strikingly evident.