Wrecked

  WRECKED

  Pointe Hope Series

  H.P. Landry

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to the man who has always loved, and believed in me while he has stood by my side over the last nine years. Thank you for enduring the last six months of having a messy house, fast food, but especially being the best dad our kids could ever have.

  I love you!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  We were moving again, and I honestly couldn’t wait to get out of New York. The tension in the car was palpable; each of us silently lost in our own thoughts, with the hum of the tires against the road the only sound for several miles. When I saw the sign indicating we had left New York, I let go of a breath that I hadn’t known I had held. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a moment to reflect on all that had happened over the years.

  The truth was, I’d hoped that the memories we left behind would always remind us of one key point: trust no one. Although my husband’s relatives had offered their support, they had abandoned us, leaving us homeless. When we came to New York, we’d trusted that our bond as family would have brought us closer, even allowed his family to feel some loyalty and stand up for those less fortunate. Unfortunately, none of that happened, and honestly, what could we expect? This was why we now found ourselves driving cross-country to the Valley of the Sun. The reality of the situation was that this was a blessing and probably for the best.

  “You sure you’re okay about going back?” my husband asked me again while our kids were in the back of the SUV. I watched Mylie coloring in her coloring book and Nikolas playing with a blue toy truck, and I couldn’t help but smile as I held his hand reassuringly.

  “Yes I’m sure. It’s what my sister would’ve wanted.” The pang of grief was still fresh, and even after eight months, it hadn’t become any easier to accept that she was gone.

  “I can’t wait! No more knee-high snow and freezing temperatures. Nothing but crystal clear skies and warm sunny days,” my husband, Xavi, proclaimed excitedly.

  I watched him quietly and found myself smiling when I thought of the many times I had tried to explain to people how to pronounce Xavi's name. They’d tried, I’ll give them that, but it usually required me explaining that it sounded like have E or Ha Vee, but it never once fazed him. Being thrust into my world was hard on him at first, but over the years we had found a peaceful compromise. Returning to that world brought trepidation, more from me than him.

  Once upon a time, the idea of going back to Phoenix would have been a living nightmare. I couldn’t help sighing as I thought of the painful memories that awaited me when I returned home, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my attention to my handsome husband instead. Xavi had never asked me for anything in the eight years of our relationship. I had to admit, seeing him cry when we were kicked out while he begged me to call my family confirmed that I was utterly in love with this man and could deny him nothing. “What you really mean is, you can’t wait for a big fat carne asada burrito from Gilberto's,” I teased.

  “That too!” Xavi's Cheshire grin caused a flurry of butterflies to dance in the pit of my stomach, while my heart felt as though it skipped a beat.

  “So how long before we get to Carrie and Mike’s?” I asked and watched the fog begin to grow thick as we wound our way through the higher elevations of the mountains of Pennsylvania.

  “Another six hours, but with the trailer, it’s taking us a lot longer,” he said. He was frustrated, and the bouncing of the SUV was a constant reminder that we couldn’t speed. We saw cars fly past, and they flipped us off as they drove by. I groaned because I knew how much Xavi hated that, especially with the kids in the back watching everything.

  “Oooh daddy, that man did bad word hand,” our three year old son, Nikolas, said as he watched yet another ranting Pennsylvanian drive by waving his one finger salute.

  “Don’t people realize that others have kids?” Xavi was annoyed, but other than that he was in good spirits.

  I rubbed his thigh lovingly and smiled. I stared at his profile, sneaking a peek at his milk chocolate brown eyes and delicate, square tipped nose and full lips-- goodness he was handsome! He had a five o’clock shadow with perfectly arched brows and full fringe, dark ebony lashes, which gave his utterly stunning Puerto Rican features a striking glow. I couldn’t help but smile at the constant reminder of just how lucky I genuinely was.

  “Mommy!”

  I turned around and saw that Nikolas had dropped a toy. I reached for it, but it was too far away for me to grasp.

  “Nikolas, Mommy can’t reach it honey.” The tears were already threatening to spill over his lashes, and it pulled on my heartstrings. “Okay, okay.”

  I unbuckled my seat belt, turned around to set my knees on the seat, and bent forward so I could reach for his favorite blue truck. With the very tips of my fingers, I felt the cold surface of metal and curled my fingers to bring it closer to my palm. It budged, and once it was close enough, I lifted it to show my son.

  “Look Nikolas!” our beautiful eight-year-old daughter, Mylie, said excitedly to her younger brother.

  “Yay! Mommy did it!” Nikolas squealed with delight.

  And then I heard …

  “OH MY GOD!” Xavi yelled, slamming on the brakes.

  I whipped around to see a stalled car in front of us, but it was too late for me to brace for the collision. I could only watch in horror as we slammed into the white sedan. My blurred life came into full focus when I realized that I might be within milliseconds of it ending. Xavi reached for my hand but missed only by inches. There was a deafening screech from the tires and an earth shattering pounding from the crumpling metal. The smells of antifreeze, gasoline, and hydraulic brake fluid filled the air. Shards of glass pierced my flesh as if shot from the barrel of a gun, and I heard Xavi’s heartrending scream. In the last moment, my children's screams tore through the air as they watched my body smash through the windshield at fifty-five miles per hour.

  My body was propelled over the hood of our truck as I flew across the expanse of the barren Pennsylvanian highway. My mangled body was thrown out of the vehicle backwards, but as I moved through the air I could see the wreckage. I was horrified to see that the front of our silver SUV was smashed like tin foil against the white sedan with which we had collided. The pain had yet to set in, but the gravity of the situation did not go unnoticed. I felt like everything was passing me by, as if I were watching a movie in slow motion. Yet when my body finally slammed against the ground, everything came into focus. My head collided against the soil and my vision blurred, but I slowly tried to concentrate on the surroundings. It was evident I had been ejec
ted several hundred feet from the car. I continued to fight against the delirium, but then I felt it. Excruciating pain racked my body from head to toe, robbing me of my ability to breathe. I struggled to draw air into my lungs. Even as I labored to take breaths, the thought that I needed to get to my family remained a constant. I had to move, regardless of my pain. I had to get to them.

  Lord, please give me the strength, I prayed silently.

  Tears streamed down my face.

  How am I alive? This can’t be happening.

  I watched as the fog became denser and started to wonder if anyone would be able to find me. Intense cold ripped through my body, and I began to shake uncontrollably.

  No, I won’t die. I need to save my family!

  I tried to turn, but waves of the most severe pain I had ever felt coursed through my tattered body, nearly causing me to lose consciousness. I needed to fight through the pain because I had to get to them. As I fought to control the pain, the white sedan began to shoot sparks into the air, starting a fire.

  Jesus Christ, no!

  I dug my fingers into the soil and heaved my body forward. I ground my knees into the dirt and struggled to crawl forward. The pain was disorienting, and then suddenly everything went numb, as if a burst of adrenaline shot through my system. I tried hard to stand, but I couldn’t.

  Why won’t my legs cooperate?

  I glanced down to see that my jeans were soaked in blood. A bright white bone poked through the denim along my left leg while my right ankle had clearly broken. I was shocked at the amount of damage my legs had taken, but I now had the answer to my question.

  Jesus this can’t be happening.

  “MOMMY!” my son screamed.

  I had never felt so helpless in my entire life. It appeared hopeless, and I was stuck living out my own version of hell. Surely I wasn’t to be allowed to live, only to watch my family die in such a cruel manner. The flames grew higher, nearly consuming the small vehicle, and I wondered if the people in the white car were already dead.

  I began to cry uncontrollably. I threw back my head and screamed for help, but no one came. My throat felt raw, and I kept trying to pull myself forward. I might have moved a foot, but there was too much distance between my family and me, and at the rate I was going, I would never make it in time. I hoped and prayed for some kind of angelic power that would give me the strength to get to my family.

  The flames shot into the air from the now fully engulfed white sedan, licking at the front end of our SUV. The cold and fog did nothing to contain the blaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw lights appear. I pleaded, and screamed for help, but the lights seemed so far away.

  Why is this happening?

  Movement inside the SUV caught my attention. My daughter was hitting the window in the backseat, trying to get out.

  “Yes, baby! Hit the glass. Get the head rest, Mylie,” I screamed out.

  “MOMMY! Daddy’s dead!” Mylie’s panic-stricken face confirmed it. My husband was gone. I felt the air leave my body, and I collapsed.

  No, please, Lord, no!

  I struggled to crawl another foot, and the sound of breaking glass was music to my ears. My babies had a savior! A stranger had shattered the glass of the passenger side front door. I thanked the Lord for bringing this stranger. He grabbed my children, one at a time, and pulled them out of the SUV. Snatching them both up in his arms, he ran away from the burning cars. A sudden explosion threw them through the air. My children’s screams ripped through the dense, frigid air.

  “DADDY!!” Nikolas cried, as soon as he had recovered from the blast. He tried to run to the SUV, but Mylie grabbed him and covered his body with hers. My little adult, she was always protecting her baby brother.

  I couldn’t help but cry. That was my job. If I died now, I’d know my kids survived, but I wouldn’t be at peace-- not knowing whether or not they would be safe. I couldn’t die too!

  Maybe Xavi wasn’t gone? He would raise our kids, and at least they would have one of us. The thought of my children alone was too horrifying to imagine. Yes, he was strong; he would live. There was no way life could be so tragic that my children would watch us both die. They were children, innocent, and they didn’t need this to be their final memory of their parents.

  Please Lord, let him live.

  I watched the stranger as he carefully made his way back to the flaming SUV. Using his arms to protect his face, he struggled to pull Xavi from the wreckage. They fell over in a collaborative heap on the side of the road, and I couldn’t tell if Xavi was breathing. I watched as the stranger lowered his ear to Xavi’s mouth then slowly shook his head.

  My beating heart, the one that I knew was perfectly synced with Xavi’s, felt as if it had been ripped from my body and constricted in a vice. This was quite possibly my last moment on earth, and my last conscious thought was that my children would have to watch as both of their parents died on some random roadside. No friends, no relatives, no one to protect them--to love them like my husband and I loved them.

  Lord, I know you have a reason for everything. I have accepted everything you have thrown my way, and I don’t ask for me, but for my children. Please Lord, let them live to find loving relationships like the one I had with Xavi. Thank you for the blessings you’ve given me, and if it’s your will for me to join my sister, so be it. Just please, let my babies be okay. Amen.

  Time froze, or it passed; I wasn’t sure, but as my wrecked body lay on the soil, I entered a state of disorientation. I was unaware of anything other than the pain that ripped through my broken body. Faintly, through the ringing in my ears, I became conscious of someone speaking. Was it God or an angel? Was it my time to go? I couldn’t be sure. I just wanted the pain to stop.

  “Ma’am! Ma’am! Can you move?”

  I struggled to open my eyes, and once I was able to focus, I found myself peering up into the clear blue eyes of a young man with a strange accent. He stood over me, pale as the fog that surrounded him, wearing strange clothing. I thought I had answered him, but judging by the look on his face, obviously I hadn’t.

  “ Ma’am, my name is Chris, and I would like to pray for you and your family.” He clasped my hand in his and began to pray. The language he spoke was foreign to me, but the words were almost peaceful. Truthfully, I couldn’t register the prayer itself, but the fact that this stranger was praying for me confirmed that I was indeed in my last moments.

  “Ma’am, my sister went to get help but…” he suddenly stopped speaking, and I heard the patter of small feet rushing toward us. I could see my children!

  “Mommy!” they cried.

  Chris warned them not to touch me because I was hurt.

  “Is she going to die, too?” Mylie asked quietly, as she sniffed; Nikolas was sobbing. I watched them as they tightly hugged one another.

  I struggled to whisper, “I love…I love you both, so much. Don’t cry, Mommy will watch over you always.” The world around me began to fade away. I heard the wailing of my children and then there was silence.

  Chapter One

  Mylie

  Every step brings us closer.

  I woke up in a cold sweat, and looked around my room only to realize that it was just a nightmare, another horrific memory of the night my parents died. This dream felt different, completely unlike the others. Instead of reliving the night through my own eyes, I was my mom in this dream. It felt as though I had just lived through her experience.

  It had been fifteen years since my parents died and a kind stranger rescued my brother and me, but the dreams had never gotten any less vivid. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I saw that there was still an hour left before my alarm would go off. Anxious to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, I jumped out of bed and headed towards the walk-in closet in my room of our old Victorian home.

  Truth was, the only reason we had ended up in Pointe Hope was because my grandparents bought this house after my mom and dad died. My grandparents did the best they coul
d for us, but when they retired five years after the accident. Nikolas and I knew that Phoenix would never be the home Mom and Dad wanted for us.

  Leaving my closet, I slipped on my tracksuit and stumbled when my sneaker was caught in the pant leg causing me to fall on to the floor, roughly hitting my head against my dresser. I hissed in pain as I rubbed my head and silently prayed that I didn’t wake my brother. I pulled myself up using the dresser as leverage but stopped midway when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Helpless, I stared, but I felt defeated as I peered into my blue eyes. Often my eyes had been compared to the ocean, but now they looked dull. To make matters worse, my restless night was evident as shadows emerged underneath my now lackluster eyes. Overall, I immediately realized that my dream had left me flushed and nervous. I shook my head of the memories that had flooded my mind and snatched up my hairbrush. As I swiftly yanked it through my caramel hair into a high ponytail, I was anxious to escape my suffocating room. I hastily grabbed my mp3 player from its dock and attempted to quietly slip out of the house so I wouldn’t wake Nikolas.

  The town of Pointe Hope was just like any other town, at least as far as the nosey neighbors and gossiping housewives go. One hybrid of the two was Mrs. J.J. Pierson. The older woman was invested in my love life, or more accurately, the lack thereof. She had tried to set me up with nearly every eligible bachelor Pointe Hope had to offer. Although I’d never admit it to her, I needed all of the help I could get. It wasn’t like I didn’t try, but there was never a spark or the potential for the incredible devotion I saw my parents had with one another. Mrs. J.J. Pierson was a sucker for romance and admired the fact that I was waiting for true love. Yet, at twenty-three years old, I suspected she had envisioned that I would have fallen in love by now. I could give in and be like many women who had good and bad times with Mr. Not Right Enough, but it would go against the grain of who I was and what I truly felt.

  I believed being in love wasn’t about sunshine and daisies, but that love allowed someone to find the person who complemented them best. It was through the trials and tribulations of life that people discovered their weaknesses, strengths, and depended on each other to be entirely whole. The theory sounded right, and since I grew up with the memory of such great role models, I believed that true love was possible.