The man’s eyes are wide as he stares down at me. He’s scared, possibly in shock, but then it occurs that the same is true of me. He reaches out a hand, touching my own.

‘Can you speak?’ he asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘We need to get you out of here.’

He stretches across me, muttering apologies as his head nudges into my chest. He grunts and then reels back, tugging the seat belt out from the clasp and helping me release my arm from underneath the loop.

‘This probably saved you,’ he says.

I mumble something back but even I’m not sure if it’s a word. Everything feels blurry and uneven.

‘I’m David,’ the man says. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Rose.’

‘Can you lift yourself out of the seat, Rose?’

‘I think so.’

He offers me his hand and I take it, even though I know I’d be all right by myself. David grips my wrist tightly and then tugs as I heave myself up and out of the passenger side of the car. He continues holding my arm, asking if I’m okay, and then supporting my lower back with an arm around my waist. I can see him sweating in the gloom and it occurs to me that he’s more scared than I am. He’s only a few years older than me, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. I wonder if we were at the same school at the same time – me in a lower year, him at the top.

‘Are you sure you can breathe all right, Rose?’

His question sounds silly until I realise I can hear myself wheezing. Now he’s mentioned it, I can feel it, too. Every time I breathe in, there’s a grating in my chest. Somehow, I’d not noticed it in the minutes that have passed.

‘I… I don’t know.’

The words are raspy and sore. I have a headache as well and, when I reach up to touch my temple, there’s blood. I can see it in David’s face now. His eyes dart away, looking through me, not at me.

‘You shouldn’t speak,’ he says. ‘You might have broken your ribs or punctured a lung. I don’t know enough, I’m afraid.’

He spins back towards the scene behind us and there’s panic in his whites of his eyes. In a flash, he tugs off his hoody, pressing the material to the side of my head.

‘Hold it there,’ he says. ‘Push it against the spot near your ear.’

I do as I’m told and there’s a flash of pain that sears stars into my vision.

David helps lower me to the ground and I don’t protest. The grass is dewy and soft underneath. He glances at his watch and then turns in a full circle. He’s lost, unsure what to do – and it’s hard to blame him for that. He offers me a smile that’s far from reassuring and then stumbles off towards the carnage.

I’m on one side of the road and, on the other, there’s a low stone wall. It’s perhaps waist-high if I was standing – but there’s not much of it left. The rocks have crumbled into dust, scattering a thin veil of ash across the verge.

That’s far from the worst of it.

Wayne’s car is a mangled mash of metal. The front has compacted into itself, the bonnet crumpling like a crushed, empty can. From what I can tell, the car hit the wall and bounced backwards, spinning so that the front is now facing me. The light of the moon glitters from the shards of glass that litter the road and verge; a shimmering crystal carpet tinged with crisp curls of metal.

There’s a steady crunch as David carefully treads across the glass. We must have walked over it together but I didn’t notice at the time.

More light comes from the headlights of David’s car beaming across the road. It’s parked askew on the side of the road, his driver’s door open.

David pokes his head into Wayne’s car and then reels back, both hands on his head at the sight of whatever’s inside. I can see his cold breath disappearing into the night and then he turns and scrunches his way back to me. His hands are in his pockets and he’s shivering without his hoody. His smile is narrow and forced.

‘How are you doing?’ he asks.

I try to shrug – but it hurts. All of a sudden, everything hurts.

‘You’re really lucky.’

I don’t feel it.

‘I’m going to go and find a phone,’ David says. ‘I think there’s a pay phone about a mile down. I don’t know if I should move you, or leave you.’ He tugs at his hair. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

David steps towards his car and then back to me, torn between us. I don’t know what to do either. He glances back at Wayne’s car.

‘Your friend must have been going really fast,’ he says. It’s a statement of fact, not a question, but I nod anyway. Not much, because of the pain, but enough.

‘Yes,’ I croak. ‘Fast.’