Chapter 1: Prologue: The End
*CRUNCH*
The sound of metal grinding against metal echoed through the night, followed by the sickening snap of glass shattering. Tom's world spun as he was thrown violently against the steering wheel, the airbag exploding in his face. His vision blurred, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to cooperate.
With all of his force he managed to throw himself from his once prized BMW. The car would probably be a write off, but he'd be much worse. He then forced himself from the driver's seat, literally tearing what was left of him from the car. His body collided with the warm summer road, with a wet sounding thud.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and that's when he saw it. His lower half was... gone. Or at least, most of it.
One leg was completely missing, the other hanging on by a twisted to look like an exotic art exhibit, along with... everything else. His abdomen was a mess of torn flesh and exposed organs, glistening under the harsh glare of the streetlights. He felt no pain, just a strange numbness, like his body had already packed up the shop, put the seats back on the tables and was getting ready to turn the lights off.
He looked down, his pants were ripped open like a skirt, exposing what should have been his crotch. But there was nothing there. Just a bloody, mangled mess. He could see his penis, or what was left of it, lying beside him on the ground, like a discarded piece of meat. His balls were nowhere to be seen, except for one, dangling behind like a grotesque pendulum. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, but he couldn't even vomit.
Not anymore. Not with what he'd become. All he could do was stare at the pathetic remnant of his masculinity, and think about Sarah. His wife. The love of his life. They'd been trying for so long, and now... now it was never going to happen.
Not like this. Not ever again. He thought of his daughters, Emily and Lily, almost grown now, and how they'd never know their father as anything more than a memory. And Sarah, his sweet Sarah, who'd wanted a son so badly. They'd been trying for years, but maybe just as you get older it just gets too hard to get pregnant again. Sarah used to joke that even if she did get pregnant, with he'd luck he'd only ever give her daughter's. Tom felt tears roll down his cheeks as he realized she would be right now, as he let out a sad chuckle. A smile forming on his face as if in defiance of the severity of his situation.
"At least I'm not alone," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He turned his head towards the other car, a crumpled mess of metal and glass. A woman groaned from within, and Tom felt a surge of determination. He had to help her. He began to drag himself across the pavement, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The smell of alcohol was strong, and he knew she must have been drinking. But anger didn't come. Instead, he felt a strange calm, a detachment from his own body.
He focused on the car that had hit him, a pink Suzuki covered in anime stickers. He knew the type, the kind of car a girl his daughters' age might drive. Tom felt his paternal instincts kick I'm as he pushed himself toward her car.
"Please, don't let her be hurt," he whispered, his breath ragged. He grasped onto the spot where her window should have been located, his hands being sliced by shards of glass. Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself up to check her condition. To his relief, bar some bruises, she seemed fine. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse. She nodded, her eyes widening as she took in his state. "Oh my god, your hands..." she started, but Tom shook his head. She could only see him grabbing onto the glass and had no idea the extent of his damage. "Don't worry about me. Can you call an ambulance? Please." She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking. "I-I can't find it," she cried, her voice trembling. Tom reached out, his hand landing on hers. "Shh, it's okay. We'll be alright." He tried to sound reassuring, despite the absurdity of the situation. "What's your name?" he asked softly. She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. "Jessica," she sniffled. "I'm Tom," he replied, giving her a weak smile. "Listen, Jessica, I need you to do something for me." She nodded, wiping her tears away. "I need to make sure you are ok. Are you hurt anywhere?" Tom asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Jessica shook her head, her eyes wide with shock. "No, I don't think so. Just... just a bit shaken." Tom let out a sigh of relief. "Good, that's good. Listen, Jessica, I need you to know something. This was just an accident, okay? A terrible, terrible accident. I don't blame you, and I don't want you to blame yourself either." Jessica looked at him, confusion etched on her face. "But... but I was drinking. I shouldn't have been driving." Tom squeezed her hand gently. "We've all made mistakes, Jessica. And yes, you made a bad one tonight. But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. And it certainly doesn't mean you deserve to live with this guilt for the rest of your life." Jessica bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. "But... but what about you?
You're... you're hurt really bad. I can see it." Tom gave her a small nod, "Yeah, I am. But that's not important right now. What's important is that you get out of this car safely. Can you do that for me, Jessica? Please?" He watched as she hesitated, her eyes flickering between him and his mangled body. "Tom, I... I can't just leave you here," she stammered, her voice laced with guilt. "You have to," he insisted, his voice firm yet gentle. "I'm beyond help, Jessica. But you... you still have your whole life ahead of you. Don't throw it away because of this. Please, just get out of the car and call for help. That's the best thing you can do for me now." Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. "Okay, Tom. I'll...
I'll do what you say, Tom. I promise." With a final glance at his mangled body, she climbed out of the car, her legs wobbling as she stood on the pavement. Tom watched her, his heart aching with a mix of sadness and gratitude. He knew he wouldn't be around much longer, and he needed to make sure Jessica would be okay. With the last of his strength, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His hands were slick with blood, making it difficult to grip the device. He dialed 911, his thumb hovering over the call button. "Just a girl," he whispered to himself, "Just a girl is injured." He pressed the button, and the operator picked up immediately. "911, what's your emergency?" Tom's voice was barely audible as he spoke, "There's been an accident. A girl... she's injured. You need to send someone right away." He hung up before the operator could ask any more questions, his energy spent. He looked up at Jessica, who was standing by the car, her arms wrapped around herself. "They're coming," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "They'll be here soon." Jessica nodded, her eyes wide with fear and shock. "Thank you, Tom," she said, her voice trembling. Tom managed a small smile, "It's the least I could do." He closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him. He could hear the distant wail of sirens, growing louder with each passing second.
Jessica was pacing back and forth, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. Tom knew he didn't have much time left. With trembling fingers, he dialed his home number, his heart pounding in his chest. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, he heard the familiar voice of his wife, Sarah, on the answering machine. "Hi, you've reached the Honeys. Leave us a message, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can." Tom took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sarah, it's me. I... I'm in trouble. There's been an accident. I don't think I'm going to make it." He paused, his throat tightening with emotion. "I need you to listen to me, okay? It wasn't her fault. The girl who hit me, she didn't mean to. She was drinking, but that doesn't make her a monster.
Tell them that, Sarah. Tell them it was just an accident. I love you, Sarah. I love you, Emily. I love you, Lily. Those were the last words Tom whispered into the phone before hanging up, his voice barely audible. He couldn't bear the thought of his youngest daughter hearing him die, of her remembering him gasping for breath, pleading for life. He wanted her to remember him as he was - strong, loving, alive.
He took one last look at the stars, their twinkling lights mocking his impending darkness. "Jessica," he called out weakly, his voice barely carrying over the noise of the approaching sirens. She turned to him, her eyes filled with tears. "Yes, Tom?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Promise me something," he said, his voice hoarse. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Anything, Tom." He took a deep breath, accepting his fate. "Promise me you'll live. Live for both of us. Make something of your life, Jessica. Promise me." She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her voice steady. "I promise, Tom. I'll live. For both of us." Tom smiled, his eyes closing as the sirens grew louder, their wails echoing through the night.