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Chris stared at the crumpled metal and red seeping through, detachedly scrutinising the brutal seventeen-car pileup. The red- blood, her blood that she'd coughed up seconds before, flecked the broken windscreen like watercolours carelessly sprinkled onto a piece of paper.
She wondered if the man next to her was even alive. Not likely, considering the silence was only broken by her uneven wheezing.
Her own wounds were apparent, the wheezing caused by her broken ribs, the blood presumably due to internal bleeding. Her neck, broken from the violent and abrupt stop their vehicle had come to.
Chris could only stare out the windshield at the destruction of the crash. Helpless. It was increasingly clear that the paramedics would be too late to save many of the people here. She pitied them.
A knock on the window. In her peripheral - a black figure. The reaper, come to take her to the afterlife? No; if she could shake her head, she would. The figure opened the door and moved until they- he was in front of her. Alastair. He spoke, words garbled. He reached for her. She couldn't feel a thing.