[center] The Crash [img]http://i.imgur.com/C181SpM.jpg[/img][/center] Echo was unconscious the moment after the truck hit her, tires squealing on the tarmac as the eighteen wheeler slammed into the side of her mustang. The car flew across the intersection and crashed into a traffic light pole, bringing the wreck to a stop. All was silent. The transport truck sat in the middle of the intersection, it’s trailed had jack-knifed and flipped over, ripping itself from the cab and spilling boxes of produce everywhere. The mustang was wrapped around the pole on the passenger side, almost unidentifiable to any onlookers. Echo slowly came back to reality. All she heard was the ringing in her ears as she slowly looked around and got her bearings. Then, panic set in. What happened? Why was everything blurry? Why were her hands covered in blood? She looked down, seeing that the drivers side door had been pushed in and had caused some sort of damage to her chest, the lower part had left her leg in an odd position. Real fear started to set in. Echo looked out the now shattered window and began to scream “HELP….H-HEEELLLP!”, her chest responding with a huge jab of pain that shot spots across her vision. Then, sirens filled the air. Soon, firetrucks were spraying down the mangled engine of her car that had caught fire and threatened to ignite the fuel that soaked the ground. Then, the door was cut away, letting in a gust of fresh air. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to look. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest as her body desperately tried to take in air, only getting half of what it needed. A rib had punctured her left lung. Everything became a blur of emotions, yelling and pain. As the adrenaline began to wear off, Echo started to feel every break, cut and bruise on her body and tears streamed down her face. With all her might, she screamed out louder and louder, her voice breaking under the lack of oxygen. She sat in the seat with a death grip on the steering wheel, her head pressed back against the seat. She didn’t dare look down again for fear she might pass out. Then, a face. A navy uniform. A stretcher. A gentle voice. Sirens. She laid in the ambulance, oxygen mask strapped to her face and a c-collar around her neck, preventing any movement at all. Then it all faded away into nothing.