Solene slid out from under her covers, letting her legs dangle above the floor. The news had been playing the same report on the crash all day long: a storm was on radar, so the plane had to divert. She didn't buy it. Not for a second. Something inside her was sure it wasn't just the weather. They were hiding the truth, trying to cover someone's ass. Storms were always a factor in a flight crash—anyone could figure that out. But there was more to it, something that gnawed at her. All those lives, changed in an instant. Someone had to be held accountable. She frowned, her attention returning to the droning news from her bedroom, replaying the same useless details.
She was sick of listening to it. The reports only seemed to force more tears from her, as if they were pulling her apart piece by piece. For hours, she had been crying—like a faucet with no way to shut it off. Nothing could suppress the image of Jeremy fighting for his life, or worse, not making it through the night. The thought alone terrified her, paralyzing her with helplessness.
What troubled her even more was that Sergeant Collins still hadn't called. It was now 11 o'clock, and the silence was unbearable. She placed her feet on the cold floor, steadying herself as she sat on the edge of the mattress. Solene let out a heavy sigh, lowering her head to rest against her knees. She needed to occupy her mind, do something—anything. For a moment, she considered stepping outside to get some air, but as she glanced at the dim moonlight filtering through the window, the thought quickly evaporated. The calm night mocked her. The world outside was still, while inside, she was coming undone.
Her eyes darted to her phone screen for the tenth time in as many minutes. The lock screen photo of her and Jeremy stared back at her, making her heart ache for his family. She couldn't imagine what they were going through right now. She should've been there with them. Their entire spring vacation had turned into a nightmare.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. The room felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in on her. She needed air—different air. Solene pushed the covers away and stood up, her legs shaky but determined. As she walked down the hallway, she ran her hand along the wall for balance, trying to focus on the feeling of her blood circulating, grounding her in the present. Each step felt heavy, as if the living room were miles away instead of just down the hall.
"...This just in, a video..."
The news abruptly grabbed her attention. Solene glanced at the television and fumbled for the remote, lowering the volume as she perched on the edge of the couch.
"...has recently been sent in by rescuers at the LAX plane crash, Flight 6049."
Her breath caught in her throat. A video? Her body moved before her mind could catch up, and she dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor, crawling closer to the screen. Her eyes locked on every pixel, desperate not to miss a single detail.
"This exclusive footage shows some of the survivors being rescued from the wreckage. Warning, this video may be difficult for some viewers to watch."
Solene pressed her lips together, anxiety knotting in her stomach. What if the chaos she had heard over the phone wasn't even half of what was happening? What if the real scene was so much worse? She took in a shaky breath, her throat dry, heart pounding in her chest. She didn't even realize she was still holding her breath when the video flickered to life on the screen:
The camera rattled in the recorder's hands, making the video shake. Solene frowned, trying to focus, but the screen was a blur of orange haze and swirling fog. She squinted, forcing her eyes to pick out any details in the mess of color and distortion. Faint outlines emerged—a scatter of rocks and bushels in the background—but it wasn't clear. The lens slowly adjusted, zooming out to reveal the landscape. The cameraman was positioned high, likely on a slope, offering a wide, panoramic view of the disaster below.
Solene's jaw dropped, her breath catching in her throat. It was thirty times worse than the muted chaos she'd imagined over the phone. The plane looked like shredded paper, completely obliterated. Both wings were gone, torn away from the fuselage. The nose of the aircraft was twisted and bent upward, the entire structure resting on its side like some discarded rag. Scattered boards lay across the uneven ground, makeshift platforms for equipment and instruments. The earth bore deep gouges where the plane had plowed through, leaving nothing but a trail of destruction.
Large inflatables were wedged beneath the wreckage to stabilize it, while industrial ropes anchored what was left of the plane against the mountainside, as if holding it in place by sheer force. Her stomach churned as the camera panned over the scene. Two survivors emerged from the smoky wreckage, supported by rescuers. Their faces were streaked with soot and tears, their bodies trembling as they were helped to safety. The sight tore at Solene's heart, tightening her chest. How could anyone have survived this?
Emergency lights flashed through the thick fog in the distance, a blur of red and blue. The vehicles were all-terrain ATVs, not the standard ambulances she was used to seeing in the city. Helicopters hovered in the background, barely visible, waiting for the moment to swoop in. Her pulse quickened as firefighters swarmed the wreckage, disappearing into the fractured remains of the plane only to return with more injured passengers. Some were carried out, limp and bandaged, while others stumbled on their own with minor cuts and scrapes. Her eyes darted across every face, searching for one person—Jeremy. But he was nowhere to be seen.
The minutes dragged on, each one tightening the knot of anxiety in her chest. Then, paramedics rushed toward the wreckage with a gurney and medical bags. Solene leaned forward, her body tense as she clutched the edge of the couch, the hardwood floor cold beneath her knees. The camera remained still, and for what felt like an eternity, there was no movement on the screen. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath shallow. Please, let him be okay.
Suddenly, firefighters cleared a path through the debris, laying more boards to stabilize the ground. The camera zoomed in, and Solene inched closer to the screen, her fingers gripping the floor. The hind wheels of the gurney came into view, slowly rolling out of the wreckage. Someone was strapped to it, but the lens remained unfocused, making the image hard to decipher.
Come on, please! She leaned forward, her face inches from the screen as the camera finally sharpened. The gurney emerged fully, revealing the figure lying on it. Solene's heart hammered in her chest.
A firefighter stood in the way, obscuring the patient's face. She gritted her teeth, the suspense unbearable as they began cutting away the patient's shirt, preparing to insert an IV. Is it him? Could it be?
The firefighter finally stepped aside, and the patient's face came into view.
"OH MY GOD!" Solene screamed, the sound ripping from her throat as she recoiled in horror. Her hands flew to her mouth, but the image burned into her mind, refusing to let go.
It was Jeremy. He was on the gurney. He was alive. Solene gasped, choking on her sudden tears. For a split second, she felt relief, a tiny crack in the wall of fear that had been suffocating her. But it was fleeting. The image of Jeremy's face—pale, terrified—made her heart flutter. She could feel it splintering inside her, each beat like a drum signaling the beginning of something terrible. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her helplessness consuming her.
She was so far away. There was no way to reach him, no way to comfort him, and the distance between them felt like an impossible chasm. Overwhelmed, she sobbed, her emotions spiraling out of control as she watched the footage continue.
Jeremy looked profoundly different. It wasn't just the dirt or the blood staining his skin; it went deeper than that. He was beyond distraught, his expression hollow and shaken. The weight of the trauma was etched into his face, something Solene had never seen before. It crushed her to the core, a pain so sharp it felt like her heart had splintered. Just days ago, they had shared one of the best nights of their lives together, completely unaware of how close they had come to losing everything.
The video showed the rescuers carefully guiding the gurney downhill, likely toward the helicopters waiting on stable ground. But then—chaos. A commotion erupted near the exit of the wreckage.
The video continued to shake as the cameraman struggled to maintain focus. Solene leaned in closer, her breath shallow, her heart racing. Jeremy was clutching something—or someone—his hands gripping tightly as if he couldn't let go. The camera zoomed in, blurring the scene, but Solene's eyes locked on his outstretched arms. Was he holding onto another person? It had to be—another pair of hands seemed to briefly flash in view, fingers entwined with his.
Her pulse quickened, and she wiped her eyes, desperate to see more clearly. What was happening? Who was he holding?
The camera jostled violently, as if the cameraman could barely keep up with the chaos. The lens blurred, focusing and unfocusing as paramedics rushed in, their figures just shadows in the swirling smoke. Solene's heart pounded in sync with the shaky footage. Her fingers clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. They were pulling Jeremy away from something—or someone—his hands clinging desperately as if he was holding onto a lifeline. He wouldn't stop thrashing, his body jerking on the gurney as they struggled to restrain him. Solene's heart pounded as her thoughts spiraled—why was he fighting so hard?
The gurney began to move, but Jeremy's hands stayed clenched, gripping tightly as if holding on to something—or someone. Solene leaned forward, her breath catching. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought she saw a second hand—small, pale, and trembling—entwined with his. Jeremy's fingers tightened around it, his lips moving as if he were trying to speak, but the words were lost in the blur of the camera.
The moment was surreal, a strange mix of dread and relief. Jeremy was still alive, but he was screaming, frantic. The medics quickly placed an oxygen mask over his face, securing a blanket around his trembling body. Solene's hands shook as she watched, fear gnawing at her insides. The paramedics rolled the gurney carefully downhill, disappearing into the thick brush and trees. Solene's eyes stayed glued to the screen, but suddenly, it cut to black. A commercial flashed on.
The room was silent, except for the sound of her ragged breathing. She blinked, struggling to process what she had just witnessed. Jeremy was alive, but something was horribly wrong. And she was powerless, stuck miles away, unable to help.
...The Next Morning...
"Yeah, I know, I saw it on the TV," Solene murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
After waiting anxiously all day, Sergeant Collins had finally called. He'd been giving her updates on Jeremy's condition. His heart rate wouldn't stabilize, so they kept having to sedate him to calm him down. Collins explained how Jeremy would panic in between doses, the medication wearing off too quickly. Each update felt like a stab to Solene's heart. The thought of Jeremy being alone, scared, and confused was unbearable. She wished she could be there with him, to take some of that fear away.
Needing to move, Solene stood and paced the room, her legs shaky from lack of sleep. She hadn't rested in over twenty-four hours, her mind constantly churning with worry.
"How is he?" Solene's voice cracked with desperate hope.
"Same as before," Collins said quietly. "Unresponsive. Won't close his eyes, not even to blink. Tears keep falling, but there's no movement. No sound."
Solene's chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat.
"Is that normal—for shock?"
"In some cases, yes. But this is one of the worst I've seen in a long time."
Solene exhaled shakily, the weight pressing down on her chest. The weight of it all felt crushing.
"But we've got the best staff working on him," Collins reassured. "We're doing everything we can to help him recover."
"What can I do?" she asked, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. Anger, guilt, and helplessness surged through her. It was too much, too overwhelming to fully comprehend.
Collins must have heard her soft sobs over the line. "Solene, I know this is hard... but just hearing your voice might be what he needs to hang on. He's going to need you more than ever. Your presence... it'll help, even if it doesn't feel like enough right now." His voice softened, as if he wasn't quite sure how to put it into words, but the weight of it hit Solene harder than she expected at in that moment.
Solene wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve, trying to pull herself together. She had to be strong—for Jeremy.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'll be there."
After a brief silence, Collins spoke again, his voice softer. "I could let you talk to him for a few minutes."
"What?" Solene gasped, feeling numb for a moment. She didn't think this would be possible. Anxiety flooded her, making her hands tremble as her mind raced through a whirlwind of thoughts.
"It might help for him to hear a familiar voice," Collins suggested.
"Okay..."
Solene wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat. She smoothed her clothes as though preparing to be seen, even though this was just a phone call. She tried to shake off her nerves, but it wasn't working.
"Just hold on a second," Collins whispered.
"Mm-hmm," Solene replied, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality of what was about to happen sank in. What could she possibly say to help? The thought terrified her. It felt like she was holding his lifeline in her hands, and she didn't know if she could pull him back from the brink.
She exhaled a shaky breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever came next. She could hear Collins speaking to someone softly in the background—to Jeremy. Her breath quickened, and her stomach knotted tighter with every passing second. Was she really ready for this?
"I'm going to put him on the line now," Collins said, breaking into her spiraling thoughts.
Solene's throat went dry, and her nerves flared up even more. "Okay," she managed to say. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, when suddenly she heard heavy, uneven breathing on the other end. She knew it was him.
Her eyes flew open, and in that moment, all her nerves disappeared. She felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to reach through the phone and hold him.
"Hi, Jeremy. It's me, Solene," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. "I know what happened, and I need you to rest, okay? I'm right here, waiting for you. Your parents are on their way back too. Just let the doctors take care of you until you come home. I'll call every day to check on you. Rest, please, just rest."
Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, whispering, 'I love you, Jeremy. We're going to get through this.' She kissed the phone softly, as if it were his skin, her lips trembling against the cold surface. Pulling the phone away, her tears blurred the screen. She wiped her face quickly, battling against the sobs that threatened to break free. He couldn't hear her break down, not now—not when he needed her strength the most
Suddenly, a voice in the background yelled, "His heart rate is rising fast!"
Solene's heart lurched as her eyes snapped open again. "What's happening? Why? Jeremy!" she shouted.
"Get the Diazepam ready!" Collins barked. "Solene, this is what's been happening. I reduced the sedatives just so he could hear you."
A beeping sound cut through the phone line, filling Solene with panic. What was the heck was happening?!
"Hold off on the Diazepam! Get the Propofol ready for immediate sedation!" Collins shouted urgently.
"Collins, what's wrong?! Solene cried out, tears streaming down her face. 'Tell me what's wrong!" The line filled with chaotic sounds—shuffling, hurried voices—but no answers. She listened in agony, her heart pounding.
After a few tense moments, Collins's voice finally returned. "I'll call you back later."
Beep, beep.
Solene's heart lurched as the message flashed on her screen. She stared at it for a moment, frozen. The reality of Jeremy's condition hit her harder than she could have prepared for. Tears welled in her eyes, and this time, she couldn't stop them. They flooded her face, her chest tightening with each sob that wracked her body. She pressed her trembling hands to her mouth, trying to stifle the cries, but it was useless. Her strength crumbled.
For a moment, it felt as if the ground beneath her had given way, her body sinking into the weight of it all. What could she do? She was miles away, helpless, her hands bound by distance and uncertainty. She collapsed onto the couch, her breathing uneven, her thoughts spiraling. The fear of losing Jeremy—of him slipping away and not being able to do anything about it—made her chest ache as if something had shattered inside her.
Her sobs came harder, raw and uncontrollable, until she was gasping for air. It felt like everything was slipping away—like she was drowning in the fear of losing him. The fear clung to her like a weight, pressing her deeper into the cushions. What if this was it? What if Jeremy never came back from this? But then she remembered his voice, his smile—She remembered the time she'd fallen apart during her move, how Jeremy had shown up at her door with her favorite drink and that cheesy smile, telling her they'd figure it out together. She hadn't believed him then—but he'd been right.
At the time, it had been enough to pull her out of her spiraling thoughts. Now, she needed to be that for him now. And now, she had to be that strength for him. She wiped her face with trembling fingers. Slowly, her breath steadied, her heartbeat calming. She wasn't sure how, but she would be strong. For him.
Solene forced herself to sit up straighter, taking deep, measured breaths. Her sobs quieted to sniffles as she wiped her tears with steady hands. She had to pull herself together. For Jeremy. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing for sure: she would be ready—for whatever came next.
She had to be.
...Till the Next Chapter...
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