Robin
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I shove the banquet hall doors open so hard they slam against the walls, drawing a few curious stares from the people milling around outside.

I don't care.

My chest feels tight, like I've been holding my breath for hours, and the cool night air is the first thing that doesn't feel suffocating.

My heels clatter against the pavement as I storm toward the parking lot.

I just need to get to my car and drive far, far away.

Then someone steps into my path, and we collide hard enough to jolt me backward.

"Hey, watch it!" he snaps, clutching his stupid little cocktail glass like it's the Holy Grail.

I blink at him, momentarily stunned, before my simmering anger boils over. "Excuse me?"

The guy--some generic frat boy in a cheap suit--gives me a once-over, like I'm the one who doesn't belong here.

"You almost made me spill my drink," he says, like that's the worst tragedy to ever happen.

Clearly he hasn't lived.

"Yeah? Well, maybe don't stand in the middle of the goddamn way," I snap back, squaring my shoulders.

He tilts his head, smirking like I'm some kind of amusing sideshow. "Wow. Someone's having a rough night."

"Oh, you have no idea," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But thanks for the unsolicited commentary, Dr. Phil."

"Hey, relax," he says, holding up his hands like I'm a feral animal he's trying to tame. "It's just a drink."

"And it's just my life falling apart. So why don't you go cry over your overpriced whiskey somewhere out of my sight?" I don't wait for his response.

I shoulder past him, muttering under my breath as I make a beeline for the parking lot.

My hands are shaking by the time I reach my car. I fumble with the keys, finally managing to unlock the door and climb in.

The familiar scent of leather and faint pine from the air freshener does nothing to calm me down. I grip the steering wheel, pressing my forehead against it and taking a deep breath.

My phone buzzes from inside my bag. I ignore it. A second buzz follows. Then a third. At this point, it's clear that it won't stop.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, digging it out with trembling hands. Of course, it's Mom because who else is more concerned about my disappearance than her?

I hit "decline" and throw the phone onto the passenger seat. Not even thirty seconds later, it starts buzzing again.

"Give me a break!" I shout at the empty car, swiping to answer before I even realize what I'm doing.

"Robin!" my mom's voice snaps through the line, sharp and impatient as always. "Where are you? Everyone's wondering."

"I'm not in the mood, Mom," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Not in the mood? Robin, this isn't about you. This is family. Show some respect, put on a smile, and come back inside."

I bark out a laugh, bitter and humorless.

"Oh yeah, because smiling through this dumpster fire of a night will magically fix everything."

"Robin-"

I hang up. I don't have the energy to deal with her right now.

I grab the bottle of wine I snatched off one of the tables earlier, and take a long swig. The sharp, acidic taste burns my throat, but I welcome it.

As I pull out of the parking lot, my mom calls again. I ignore it this time, flipping the phone over so the screen won't distract me.

My hands are still shaking, but I grip the steering wheel tighter and press harder on the gas.

The road blurs past me as I drive aimlessly, the city lights streaking like watercolors through my tears. My chest feels like it's caving in, like there's not enough air in the world to fill my lungs.

Why does this hurt so much?

It shouldn't. Heather shouldn't matter. She lied. She's a liar. A fake fiancée, a fake person.

She waltzed into my life, turned everything upside down, and now she's... what? Sitting pretty with Javis, pretending none of it happened?

I take another swig of wine, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as I lift it. The alcohol is starting to hit, making my thoughts fuzzier, but it's not enough to numb the ache in my chest.

The dashboard clock blinks 11:47 PM in cold, unfeeling numbers. I have no idea where I'm going. My hands are clammy on the wheel, and my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton.

The phone buzzes again. Mom. I grit my teeth, reaching out to shove it under the seat, but my hand slips, and the phone clatters to the floorboard.

"Goddamn it!" I mutter, leaning down to grab it.

When I look back up, it's too late.

The headlights of an oncoming truck glare blindingly in my eyes. I swerve hard to the right, tires screeching against the pavement. The wine bottle tips over, spilling onto my lap, but I barely notice as the car spins out of control.

My heart is in my throat, pounding so loud it drowns out the sound of metal crunching and glass shattering. The world tilts, flips, and then-

Darkness.

For a moment, there's nothing. No sound, no pain, just a heavy, suffocating silence.

Then the ache starts. A sharp, searing pain radiates from my side, and I feel something warm and sticky trickling down my temple.

My ears are ringing, and it takes me a second to realize the car has stopped moving.

I blink, trying to focus, but everything is blurry.

My hands fumble for the seatbelt, my fingers slick with blood--or maybe it's wine. I can't tell.

"Help..." My voice is hoarse and weak.

I slump back against the seat, my vision going black around the edges.

I don't know how long I sit there, dancing on the edge of consciousness. The distant sound of sirens cuts through the ringing in my ears, growing louder and louder until they're all I can hear.

And then there's nothing.

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Thank you for being so patient with me and I sure hope you guys are enjoying this.

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