She wondered if it was the side effects of the drug or the intense amount of adrenaline, but she couldn't stop laughing. She was in deadly danger, but the situation seemed hilariously absurd.

Catherine felt a sharp yank on her head and then a burning scratch across her face. She turned to see Iris, fighting like a madwoman. Taking one hand off the wheel, she reached for Iris's face, trying to push her away. Though Iris was small, Catherine was weak. She took her other hand off the wheel and pushed harder.

​​

The car swerved toward the side of the road, and Iris grabbed the wheel and jerked it back. A lorry passed them, blaring its horn, but Catherine ignored it. She jerked the wheel with one hand and scratched and pushed at Iris.

"Stop," Iris shouted as another horn pierced the air. "We're going to hit someone."

Catherine grabbed the wheel again, but it was too late—the side of the car scraped against an oncoming car and then skidded to the side of the road. Catherine jerked the wheel, and the car went into a spin, skidding around and around like a top. The force threw Iris back onto her seat, and she slammed her head on the dashboard.

Catherine pumped on the brakes as horns blared and screeched all around her. She heard the shattering crash of glass and felt dozens of stinging small shards fall on her face. She closed her eyes and raised her hands in defense, waiting for the car to stop moving.

Finally, it came to a stop. The airbags exploded with a deafening boom, pummeling her from all sides and trapping her in the seat. She turned to look at Iris—the girl was also trapped in her seat—her face covered in thin red cuts.

Catherine patted her hand around her seat, feeling for a large piece of glass. She gripped the jagged material and stabbed it upward at the airbag. It slipped in her fingers, and she felt it sink into the skin. Warmblood flowed over her hand, and she stabbed the airbag again, freeing herself.

A jumble of people stood around the car, shouting and cursing. In the distance, she heard police sirens.

The sirens got louder—they seemed to be coming from all directions. The sound rang in Catherine's ears, and a piercing pain split her skull. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the noise and the pain, but it didn't work. She pulled her hands away and stared at them in shock—they were both covered in scarlet red blood. Her head spun, and her stomach clenched—was the blood coming from her hands or her head?

"We have to get out of here," Iris groaned. "Quick, move the car."

Catherine stared at Iris in shock, "Move the car? Are you crazy? The car is totaled. There are dozens of witnesses."

Iris mumbled something and reached for the steering wheel. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion—she didn't understand what Iris was doing.

"Can you reach the accelerator?" Iris asked.

Catherine ignored the question. She fumbled with the seatbelt, pressing on the button over and over, trying to free herself, but it didn't budge under her fingers. The strap of the seatbelt pressed painfully against her chest, and she tugged at it helplessly, trying to escape. She jammed her fingers into the button, forcing all her strength into it. With a creak, the seatbelt unbuckled, and she scrabbled for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" Iris asked.

"I'm trying to get out of this car," Catherine said.

"Don't," Iris warned.

"Or what?" Catherine asked. "You'll try to stop me? In front of all these people?"

"I will," Iris warned.

"I'd like to see you try," Catherine said.

She threw her weight against the door, trying to make the dented metal budge. It swung open with a loud scrape, and she fell out of the car and slammed down onto the hard tarmac. She bit her tongue hard and tasted blood. The world around her spun, and several pairs of shoes raced toward her—she tried to look up at the people wearing the shoes, but it hurt her head. She closed her eyes and opened them as a familiar pair of heels appeared in front of her eyes— it was Iris.

"This crazy woman wrecked my car," Iris screamed. "I think she's drunk or something—look at her!"

A disapproving mumble passed through the crowd, and several voices began to shout at once. The voices made Catherine dizzy—she wanted to close her eyes and curl into a ball on the hard, hot tarmac. Instead, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The crowd's faces swam and spun in front of her, but she pulled herself into a stand. Leaning against the twisted metal wreck of the car, she looked for Iris.

Iris was surrounded by a small group of bystanders—mostly men—who were comforting her as she cried. Her slim shoulders shook, and Catherine noticed that the blood on her face had been wiped away—she only had a few small cuts.

"What the hell were you thinking?" an old man with a red face shouted. "You've wrecked my truck, girl."

"Do you think it's true she's drunk?" a woman asked. "And at this time of day?"

"She certainly looks drunk," said another. "She can barely even stand, and her eyes have gone all funny."

"Well, she's just been in a horrible traffic wreck," a man argued. "She could have a concussion."

"I'm sorry," Catherine said, trying not to slur her words. "When the police come, I'll accept full responsibility, and I'll make sure you all get my insurance information."

"Well, at least she's not trying to shirk responsibility," said one woman. "Though she's in a shameful state."

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned more heavily against the frame of the car. She wondered why the police weren't there yet—she needed them to come soon. As long as the police were there, Iris couldn't take her to the airport. If she could drag out the police conversation as long as possible, maybe they'd be too late.

The sound of high heels clacking on the pavement made her open her eyes—Iris was coming near. She blinked and focused on Iris's pale face. Though Iris's skin was crisscrossed with thin red cuts, she still looked cool and dignified. She placed a hand on Catherine's shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"I know what you're doing," she hissed. "But it won't work. Glen is still on his way, and he'll take care of these people."