Jan. 13, my seventeenth birthday. Probably the worst day of my life. Because while me and Ashley were driving to the mall to "Pick some decent clothes" for me, we got hit by a car.
I got knocked out, my head hit the dashboard, but Ashley told me later that the paramedics that pulled me out of the wreckage were total hotties, as she put it. They put me on a stretcher and loaded me onto the stretcher, but they gave each other a wolfish grin as they loaded me in.
Even unconscious I knew that Erasers were around me. I felt it. But Ashley almost passed out herself as they morphed and started running with me to a helicopter instead of loading me into the ambulance.
I woke up once we were almost there, I screamed and managed to knock two out before one sat on me. I was dry heaving because of the way his breath smelled and struggling like a wild animal.
I was officially in survival mode.