Stanley gripped the steering wheel with force, his eyes locked on the road ahead. Rain poured in torrents, the windshield wipers struggling to keep pace. "I’m coming, alright?" he said, his voice steady despite the stress.

  The realtor’s bored voice crackled through the speakerphone. "I already told you, I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Cole. I’m still in the apartment. I won’t leave until six."

  Stanley glanced at the GPS. It showed his arrival time creeping closer to the deadline. He muttered a curse under his breath before responding. "Okay, thank you. See you in a moment."

  "See you in a moment," the realtor repeated before ending the call.

  The apartment Stanley was after was two hours away from home, and he'd been grateful for it. He had spent months sorting through ads, waiting for the right place. This apartment felt like his chance to get away from everything he ever knew, and he was not going to let it go.

  The young man adjusted the steering wheel as music resumed through the car speakers. His speed hovered just below the limit, he'd been cautious at first, but the urgency of the situation pushed him to press harder on the accelerator.

  A white construction truck emerged on the opposite side of the road, its headlights cutting through the rain. Stanley fought to keep his focus on the lane, but without warning, his car lurched left, veering straight into oncoming traffic.

  The tires squealed as they lost grip on the slick road.

  In that split second, two thoughts crashed together in his mind: Oh shit, I can’t brake or I'm dead, and, as his hands instinctively yanked the wheel back, This is it.

  The car slipped on the wet road and took off. The world around him spun like he’d been thrown into a washing machine. Gray and black flashes blurred together as a deafening crack filled his ears.

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  It was over in seconds. When Stanley opened his eyes, he found himself hanging upside-down in the mangled car.

  Blood dripped from his throbbing nose and face. The acrid smell of smoke wafted from the central console, and he could only piece back the dim light of the music player.

  He reached for the seatbelt, unbuckling it, but collapsed onto the shattered glass that lined the car’s roof. A breath escaped him as he scrambled to reorient himself.

  I’m going to die here, Stanley thought, the realization cutting through him with an eerie lucidity.

  He whispered a prayer, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His hands fumbled for the keys, but everything was a disorienting blur. The console was upside-down, and the faint light wasn’t enough to guide him.

  Time stretched unbearably before his fingers found the keys. With a sharp twist, the engine fell silent. He then found his phone beside him, flung from its holder during the crash. The uncracked screen lit up, offering a brief relief amidst the chaos. He struggled for a moment to remember the number he needed before pressing the buttons with his left hand.

  The call didn't go through. "No connection," he read, despite his swaying vision.

  Alright, Stanley reasoned, biting his lip. I need to do everything I can to get out before I pass out. This is alright. Please, God, help me.

  His heart hammered in his chest as he turned and tried to open the car doors. They wouldn’t budge. Blood still poured from his nose.

  Pushing against the glass with his hands didn’t work either. Panic creeped at the edges of his mind, and he cried for help, though he knew no one could hear him from inside his car. As his eyes scanned his surroundings, he noticed the shattered glass in a back window and tried to extract himself.

  His left leg wasn’t moving. Stanley kept his eyes on the opening, focusing all his energy on escaping the crashed car.

  Where was he? Would someone come? His chest felt wrong, how long did he have? He didn’t know.

  Memories of his parents flickered in his mind—would he ever see them again? The thought cut deeper than the pain.

  Deep inside, he knew he was probably not going to make it. He could feel a warm liquid dripping down his pants. He knew this was likely the end, but he kept pushing through the rising numbness, refusing to surrender to it.

  His heart filled with regrets.

  No, he thought, I don't want to die here, alone.

  About halfway out, his breathing became shallow. The world around him blurred, growing distant and cold. Moments later, Stanley’s body stilled, his breath fading into the pitter-patters of the rain.