The night was tense, the air thick and humid, even for a late summer evening. The moon hung low in the sky, hidden behind clouds, casting an eerie, muted light over the road. The atmosphere inside the car felt like it could crack at any moment, with only the hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tyres on wet asphalt to break the silence.
Eli sat in the passenger seat, his hands tight against the armrest, his knuckles white. Noah was behind the wheel, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Jesse, a mutual friend, sat in the back, his body tensed and breathing rapidly.
"You can't just pretend everything's fine, Noah!" Jesse's voice pierced the tension like a knife, sharp and accusatory. "You can't just ignore it and move on like it didn't happen!"
Noah's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I'm not ignoring anything. I'm trying to get away from it—away from all the damn drama!" His words were harsh, but there was something beneath the anger—something broken.
Jesse scoffed. "Drama? Do you think this is just drama?" His voice was rising now, the emotional weight of everything that had happened between them finally spilling out. "You think I don't know what you're doing? What are you doing? You're running away from us, from me!"
Eli's heart hammered in his chest as he glanced over at Noah. His best friend's face was a mask of frustration and something deeper, something that Eli couldn't quite place. Noah hadn't been the same since that day—the day everything had shifted, the day the unspoken words between them had started to fill the space with something that could no longer be ignored.
"Shut up, Jesse," Noah muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "Just shut up."
But Jesse wasn't listening. The silence that had plagued them for months was about to burst wide open, and Jesse wasn't going to hold back anymore. "You're just like him, Noah. Always hiding behind your stupid pride, your stupid guilt! But guess what? I'm not going to let you do this anymore!"
Eli's stomach twisted. This was it. The moment they had all been dreading. The truth—the ugly, unspoken truth—was about to spill over, and they were all going to have to face it. Or maybe not. Maybe it would tear them apart first.
"Jesse—" Eli started, his voice shaking, but the words never had a chance to leave his mouth.
In a split second, the world seemed to shift. The car veered to the side, the tyres screeching as Noah tried to regain control. The air was filled with the sharp, sickening sound of metal against concrete. Eli's heart slammed against his ribcage as his body jerked forward, everything happening in a blur—chaos, screaming, the sickening smell of burning rubber.
Then… nothing.
The headlights of the car flickered, casting the wreckage in a dim, ghostly light. The dashboard cracked, the windshield shattered, and everything else was a blur of twisted metal and broken glass. The sounds of sirens and shouting slowly began to cut through the haze, but they were distant, muted—as if coming from another world entirely.
Eli's head throbbed, the pain sharp and relentless as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could hear the faint sound of people calling out, but it was all muffled, as if underwater. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the steady rhythm of his breath, the aching emptiness that had settled in his chest.
He tried to move, but everything hurt. His limbs felt heavy, like lead. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw the flashes of red and blue—the ambulance lights flashing in the distance. His mind was foggy, his thoughts scattered.
But there was something else, something more horrifying than the pain.
Jesse was gone.
Noah was gone.
And Eli… Eli was alone.
The last thing he remembered before everything went black was the distant sound of sirens.
The last thing he remembered was the hollow feeling in his chest as if something had been ripped away, leaving only a gaping void in its place.
Eli's eyes snapped open. The sterile white walls of the hospital room greeted him, a harsh contrast to the chaos of the night before. His head ached, and his body was stiff and sore, but the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness gnawing at him.
For a moment, he lay still, trying to make sense of it all. His heart pounded in his chest as his thoughts began to come back to him. The argument. The crash. The silence.
His gaze drifted to the empty chair beside his bed.
No, Noah. No, Jesse.
He reached out weakly, his fingers brushing against the cold sheets. His breath caught in his throat.
It wasn't just the pain in his body. It was the pain in his soul—the realization that everything had changed. That nothing would ever be the same.
The door creaked open, and Eli turned his head, desperate for some kind of comfort, some kind of explanation.
But the only person who entered was a nurse, her face a mask of concern. She didn't say anything; she just adjusted his IV and checked his vitals before quietly stepping out again, leaving Eli in the deafening silence.
Alone. Again.
As the minutes stretched on, Eli couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had happened, whatever had been lost in that crash, was something that would haunt him forever.
Because the truth was—no matter how much he wished it weren't true—someone had died that night.
And it wasn't just Jesse. It wasn't just Noah.
It was all of them.