Cursed - The next

The white light of the moon is reflected in the small puddles on the highway. The sky is now dark and the area is bathed in a cold black. The light of the blue police car lights up every few seconds and the shrill sound of the siren cuts through the biting silence. "Should not we wait for reinforcements?" Asks one of the two policemen. Although it is not the first accident he should take, today seems to be different. "No, we can do it ourselves," the already somewhat older colleague tells him: "Come on." The policeman opens the door of the car they parked at the side and gets out. His apprentice does it to him, even if he is less confident. Together, they walk towards the accident car, which has been slowed down by something moving too fast across the street. Now only one of the two headlights flickers at irregular intervals and creates a ghostly atmosphere. "I think we should really wait," the young man once again expresses his concerns. This time, however, his colleague does not even reply and just goes on instead. The man's heart flutters, like a bird trying in vain to escape from his cage. "Slowly," are the instructions given to him. Although the younger policeman follows his requests, he carefully glows with his flashlight on the ground. When he spots the small blood spots that make up a trail to the vehicle, he has to swallow. That is not right. You really should wait. "Come on, you scaredy-cat," his boss asks. It is obvious to him that he is annoyed by the insecurity of the young man. Although he has a bad feeling, follow him, unlocked his weapon, however. After all, they both do not know what's seen here. The control center did not have much information for them and the annunciator also seems to have miraculously disappeared. Why here? Why me? he keeps asking himself while sneaking up to the trunk together. Oddly enough, he is open all over. "You go to the right and I to the left," comes another command. For once he thinks that this is a good idea. Both put their plan into action. He slowly sneaks along the right side of the car, but remains crouched. Carefully, he peeks through the rear window. There is no person to be seen, but here, too, is blood. It seems to be distributed everywhere. Not like a car accident. Instead, it seems like a red paint bomb exploded in the middle of the seat. But when he shines his flashlight through the window, he can clearly say that it is blood. What happened here? "No one at the back, just blood," he reports quickly. "Not me either", his colleague informs him a few seconds later. Both walk slowly and stoop until they arrive at the front seats. Again he stares through the window, but this time by the passenger. However, the next look immediately steals the language. Because this seat is not empty. A human sits in the black seat. He is still strapped on, but even that does not seem to have helped. The person has fallen limp with his head on the dashboard. After a few seconds, he can identify the person as a blond girl in his teens. Next to the head of the young woman, a pool of blood has formed on the fixtures. The red liquid shines in the moonlight scary. "I have something here," his voice stifled. He does not dare to open the door. "Alright, I'm coming around," he tells me, "There's nothing for me, but the door is open." In the head of the young policeman it begins to rattle. How can the driver be missing while the passenger is still there? Somebody has to drive. "Is she dead?", He hears the voice now much closer to his colleagues. So far he has pushed around such a diagnosis, but now he also sees that it is time: "Yes, I think so." "Are you sure?", Elder asks again, not wanting to believe the other man's words. "I'm sure," he points with his finger out of the window. The colleague follows his movement and then automatically stops. Not even his breath can be heard.