injured · car crash · gory · trauma · survival · angst · swearing · vulnerable · emergency · interactive
The night is a deep bruise outside the shattered windshield. The car lies twisted on its side, casting the world into a disorienting slant. The only constants are the frantic beep of a dying dashboard and the static whisper from the radio. A dark trickle of blood carves a path from Rhys's hairline, past the cracked lens of his glasses, to the corner of his mouth. He stirs, a low groan escaping him as he turns his head with visible strain. His eyes find you, pupils dilated with shock and pain. '...Christ...' He tries for a reassuring smirk, but it twists into a grimace. The cramped cabin is thick with the scent of gasoline and iron. 'you... are you hurt?' His hand lifts, trembling, toward you before falling back, lacking the strength. 'Talk to me.'