Love And Hate Are Funny Things
It all happens so fast, I can't really follow everything happening. Suddenly, the truck roars past, and my eyes jump over to it. At that moment, that woman must have decided to merge left. Maybe it's to keep me from passing her, or maybe she's not paying attention. Either way, when I look back, her little compact car goes under the tires of the jacked pick-up truck. The truck's front passes clean over them, crushing the roof of the car. For a moment, the physics of the event interests me, until I realize that my kids and ex were in that car. The car's already upside-down, after catching on the rear axle of the truck. Parts of the truck's rear axle fly off; I'm lucky they didn't fly into my face, driving right behind them. Everything comes to a grinding halt. The truck miraculously keeps itself in the lane, with the car stuck under it, still upside-down.
Because of that, they don't slam in the barrier beside the freeway ramp. I see orange tongues on the bottom-side of the car. When the catastrophe comes to a halt, I throw the door of my truck open. The hinges offer barely any resistance to me right now, with my kids endangered. The door pops right off, flying across three lanes, into the median. I have to be careful, my feet will slide against asphalt easily. Friction doesn't change, my weight doesn't change. I'm at the car quickly, despite my careful steps. I consider flipping it upright, but it's stuck under the truck. I'm not sure I could move it if I try, and I have no time to waste. My son is hanging from his seat belt awkwardly. He's on the side that got hit worse, and his door is a crumpled mess. The crushed door complains with a groan, but the window was broken, so I can grip the remains pretty well. I bend the whole fixture up, metal screaming.
As I do, I see the flames are spreading, the car is going to be an inferno in seconds. I take a big breath and duck inside. Jason is looking at me with wide eyes, fearful. I realize that he's seeing something he doesn't understand, but I don't have time to explain. We decided years ago that the kids shouldn't know about me until they were a bit older. I reach in and grasp his seat belt, but the buckle is stuck. The belt itself offers real resistance. It has some serious tensile strength to it, and I'm also bent in an awkward angle. I glance across the badly damaged car at my daughter, who is sitting next to him. She's probably unconscious, but some of her hair was caught in the seat belt, so I can't see her face, even though most of it is hanging below her. Right in front of Jason is his mom, and I can hear her crying, but that part of the car is so damaged, I can't see her at all. It's also getting a lot warmer in the car.
Jason is first. I dig deep. The seat belt snaps and my back pops in response to the great release of pressure. Unfortunately, I'm not fast enough to keep Jason from hitting the roof of the car. He cries out in pain, but I don't think he's hurt too bad by the short fall. I pull him out, and shout for him to stand clear of the wreckage, by my truck. Now I crawl in, accidentally breathing smoke. I cough, my lungs burn, but I scramble in. Thankfully, her seat belt works. My reflexes kick in, so I catcher her in my arms as she falls to the roof of the car. She's out cold, and she's had some kind of head wound, I see. I carefully try to pull her out. Something catches on my back, but with my precious daughter cradled in my arms, I'm at my strongest. Unfortunately, that means the metal shard sticking into me rips right up my back and out my shoulder as I move backwards. I barely wince at the pain, totally focused on my daughter.
It's getting much harder to breath, and I can hear my ex's cries taking turns with choking coughs now. I try and stand, but my back almost fails me. Something is dripping down my leg. Absently, I realize I've been hurt a lot worse than I thought. I manage to stand, and half-stumble to my truck. I lay my daughter down. My son is crying, his hands covering his face. I look back at the car, and a dark moment of clarity whispers in my ear. I could leave her. I could have my kids to myself. I could get back for every time she's insulted me, called me stupid, made fun of my line of work. The painful proceedings, unbidden memories, flash past me. She tried to take my kids from me, forever. I hate her. She made her bed, driving like an idiot, risking my kids lives. I should let her burn.
