Chapter 2: No Response
Collins wiped the blood off of his lip. "Holy sh-t," he whispered to himself, and turned to look at his lover.
Angel's body lay sprawled across her seat. Her chest was barely rising and falling, breath almost non-existent. She was bleeding from various cuts, and her neck was tilted at an un-earthly angle.
"Angel!" Collins couldn't help but shout, to no response. He lightly touched her check, feeling the warmth. That comforted him.
He tried to open his door, and finally got it pried enough to slide out. Standing back and looking at the car, he was amazed that he'd even fit inside, let alone alive. There was no front, just shrapnel. The passenger side was pressed up against the wall, as if it was an eraser smeared onto a piece of paper. How could someone survive that?
He ran to the front of the vehicle, and a moan of sadnedd escaped his lips. As he gazed at Angel's alost life-less body, he couldn't help but wonder how he was going to get her out.
"I just phoned for help!" shouted a man, running over to him, "I saw the whole thing!" Collins ignored him, moved closer to the fron of the car.
"Angel!" he cried again, knowing there would be no response. With his hands on the contorted metal left of the hood, he began to cry. "Angel," he moaned. He couldn't lose her, not like this.
The man stayed back, keeping uncomfortable distance. They stayed in that position, with cars passing by cautiously, until a siren sounded in the distance.