James Sinclair
Olivia was running, her figure a blur of movement, her hair flying behind her like a trailing banner. But it was only the briefest of moments before she vanished into the traffic, the sound of her name leaving my lips like a prayer.
"Olivia!"
It was all I could say, all I could scream, as she ran toward the street—into the street. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her.
And then, I saw it.
The car. The fvcking car.
It appeared out of nowhere, the headlights glaring bright and unforgiving, the screech of tires cutting through the air like a knife. My heart froze, and for a second, time stood still. I saw her turn, just a split second too late—her wide, panicked eyes locking with mine, but then... impact.
The sound of the car hitting her was a sickening, gut-wrenching thud. I
