Tom woke to the sharp smell of disinfectant and the steady beeping of a heart monitor. His vision blurred… then sharpened into the cold white ceiling above him.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then it hit him — the crash, Amy's scream, and the darkness that followed.
Pain stabbed through his ribs when he tried to sit up.
"Easy there," a calm voice said.
Tom turned his head. A tall woman in a white coat stood by his bed, checking his chart. Her hair was tied back neatly, her eyes soft but tired.
"Dr. Holliday…?" Tom croaked. "You're Nana's friend, right?"
She nodded gently. "Yes, Tom. Your Nana asked me to watch over you until she got here."
Tom's throat felt dry. "My friend… Amy. Is she okay? Can I see her?"
Dr. Holliday froze. The silence hung heavier than the air itself.
"Tom…" she whispered, lowering the chart. "I need you to stay calm. Your body is still recovering."
"Don't—don't say it like that. Just tell me she's alive. Please."
She pulled a stool closer and sat beside his bed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Tom… Amy didn't make it."
The world stopped.
Tom stared at her, waiting for the joke, the correction, anything—but it didn't come.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no—she was fine. She was talking. She—she was alive."
"Her injuries were severe. We did everything we could," Dr. Holliday said quietly.
Cold spread through him. He tried to breathe, but it felt impossible.
"This is my fault…" he whispered.
Dr. Holliday shook her head. "Accidents are never one person's fault. You need to heal — physically and emotionally."
But Tom wasn't listening.
Nana's Comfort
He didn't hear the door open. He only felt warm arms wrap around him.
"Tommy… I'm here. I'm here, baby," Nana whispered.
He collapsed into her embrace, sobbing. His fingers clutched her sweater like he was afraid she would disappear too.
"It's okay," she murmured, brushing his hair back. "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe."
Dr. Holliday stepped closer. "He's going into shock. I need to give him something."
Nana nodded. "I've got you, Tom."
A sedative was injected into his IV. Within seconds, his screams faded into trembling quiet. Nana held him until he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Three Days Later
Tom sat upright in the hospital bed, weaker but conscious. His ribs ached, but the real pain lived deeper — a hollow, endless weight.
Nana sat knitting quietly beside him. She hadn't left his side once.
Then came a knock. Two officers stepped into the room.
The first, tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes: Officer Francis Cisco.
The second, younger and freckled: Deputy Murphy.
Francis showed his badge. "Tom Harvey? We need to ask you some questions about the incident."
Murphy spoke softly. "We know this is difficult. But anything you remember could help us understand what happened to Amy."
Tom's stomach twisted. His fingers clenched the sheets.
Francis stepped closer. "Start from the beginning, Tom. Everything you saw. Everything you heard. Even the smallest detail matters."
Tom took a shaky breath.
This was the moment. The moment he had to relive the nightmare… whether he was ready or not.