Lily was riding her bike back to her new ranch home. She just had to get out of the city after coming home from the mall.
She came to a street. The only car on it was turning. She crossed. But the car kept coming. She screamed. She felt a hit in her side and a bump on her head. And then everything went black.
Jackson had been driving home after another (unsuccessful) date. The girl had gotten so mad she had stomped all the way home. But he had turned on the radio. He hadn't noticed his turn signal had been on for blocks now.
He closed his eyes for two seconds for the music. Then he heard a thump. His car rolled over a bump. He stopped, wondering what it was. He got out of his car and nearly screamed at what he saw.
Lily was there on the road, crumpled up, blood streaked across her face, her right leg, her left arm, and her stomach.
"Oh no. Aw man…" Jackson said, pacing. He flipped out his cell phone and dialed the three numbers he thought he'd never have to dial.
9-1-1.
