Chapter 32: The Shattering of a Saturday
The drive home from West Virginia was a long stretch of dark asphalt and heavy thoughts. By the time Ashley dropped Katherine off, the town of Covington had folded into itself, the streetlights casting lonely pools of amber on the empty sidewalks. The local diner was dark, the gas station was locked up, and the only sound was the wind whistling through the skeleton-like branches of the oaks.
Ashley turned her car around and headed toward her own neighborhood, the radio humming a low, pop melody to keep the silence at bay. Her mind was still on their conversation at Wal-Mart—on Katherine’s obsession with Leila and the strange, magnetic pull of Ethan. She felt a twinge of guilt for being so blunt with her best friend, but she truly believed that some doors were better left closed.
Her phone began to buzz in the cup holder, cutting through the music. She glanced down and saw her father’s name on the screen. A small, tired smile touched her lips as she turned down the radio.
"Hey, Dad," Ashley greeted him, her eyes fixed on the winding road ahead.
"Hey," Paul’s voice came through the speakers, warm and thick with the familiar worry of a single father. "Are you almost home yet, Ash? It’s getting late."
"Yes, Dad," Ashley sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately as she navigated a sharp turn. "Don't worry, I’m literally five minutes away. The deer aren't out tonight, I promise."
"Alright, honey. Just be safe. These roads can be tricky this time of year."
"I will, Dad. See you in a few."
"I love you, kiddo."
"I love you too—Oh gosh!"
The words died in a scream. Out of the absolute blackness of the forest, a figure stepped directly into the center of the road. It wasn't a deer. It was tall, dark, and standing perfectly still. Ashley slammed on the brakes, the tires shrieking against the pavement as the car fish-tailed wildly. The world spun in a blur of headlights and shadows.
The front of the car slammed into a massive oak tree with a bone-jarring crunch. The airbag deployed in a white flash of heat and dust. Pain flared in Ashley’s chest, sharp and blinding, before the world dissolved into a merciful, silent black.
Through the shattered windshield, the figure didn't run. It moved toward the driver’s side door with a slow, mechanical grace. The metal of the door groaned as it was wrenched open like a tin can.