The Rainy Night Crash

Rain pounded on the car window like it was going mad. I gripped the steering wheel, my vision blurred by streaks of water. The mobile phone vibrated on the passenger seat, showing Sarah Marshall's name. Just as I was about to answer, a piercing screech of brakes came from ahead. I slammed on the brakes, my heart instantly jumping to my throat. A blinding white flash streaked by, followed by a dull crash. I saw that familiar white sedan spin wildly like an out-of-control top. It was Sarah Marshall's car—she had taken Seth out. I yanked open the car door, and the rain immediately drenched my clothes. I ran toward the accident scene, puddles splashing high around my feet. Getting closer, I finally made out the car that had hit them. It was a black car, its front end completely mangled. The car door opened, and a familiar figure stepped out. He glanced at the wrecked car, then jumped into his own vehicle, slammed the accelerator, and vanished into the rain. I froze in place, feeling like all the blood in my body had turned to ice. I recognized that person, but I dared not say a word. "Help! Somebody, please help!" Shouts erupted around me, and I snapped back to reality. I rushed over to Sarah Marshall's car; the window was already shattered. Sarah lay slumped over the steering wheel, her forehead drenched in blood, completely motionless. Seth in the back seat was crying, his voice faint like a kitten's. I trembled as I opened the car door, carefully lifting Sarah Marshall out. "Sarah, Sarah, wake up!" I called her name, but she didn't respond at all. The ambulance siren pierced the quiet of the rainy night, drawing near. The paramedics put Sarah and Seth onto stretchers, and I followed them into the ambulance. The harsh white light inside the ambulance fell on Sarah's face, drained of all color. I held her hand tightly, my palm slick with cold sweat. At the hospital, Sarah Marshall and Seth Dawson were rushed into the emergency room. I sat on a chair in the corridor, my mind flooded with the scenes from just moments ago. I pulled out my mobile phone, my finger lingering over the dial pad for a long time. In the end, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I didn't know what to do, and I was too afraid to think about the consequences. About an hour later, the emergency room door opened. The doctor came out, his face grave. "Who is a family member of Sarah Marshall and Seth Dawson?" I stood up immediately and hurried to the doctor. "I am—doctor, how are they?" "Sarah Marshall is not in life-threatening condition for now, but she is still unconscious." The doctor hesitated, his tone growing heavier. "The child's condition is serious—he's losing a lot of blood and needs an emergency transfusion." My heart sank instantly. "Transfuse with my blood—I'm his father!" I quickly rolled up my sleeves, desperate to start the transfusion right away. The doctor shook his head and handed me a lab report. "The child's blood is O type, RH-negative. Yours is type A—it's not compatible." Looking at the words on the lab report, I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, chilling me from head to toe. "What do we do then? Is there any other option?" I grabbed the doctor's arm, my voice hoarse with urgency. "We're already contacting the blood bank, but this blood type is rare, so it might take some time." The doctor patted my shoulder. "Don't be too anxious. We'll do everything we can." Just then, Sarah Marshall's parents hurriedly rushed over. "Where's Sarah? And Seth? Are they okay?" Sarah's mother grabbed my hand tightly, her eyes filled with anxiety and worry. I kept my head down, not daring to look into their eyes, and could only repeat the doctor's words. After hearing this, Sarah's father's face instantly turned pale. "Weren't you following them from behind? How could something like this happen?" Anger and a faint undercurrent of blame lingered in Sarah's father's voice. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. "The rain was so heavy at the time, I couldn't see clearly..." Before I could finish, Sarah's mother started crying. "You didn't see clearly? How could you not see clearly! Seth is still inside waiting for the transfusion, and you don't know anything!" Sarah's mother cried as she pounded on my chest. I didn't dodge; I let her hit me. "Where are the police? Did you call them? Did you see who hit them?" Sarah's father grabbed my collar, his eyes blazing with anger. My heart sank; I didn't dare tell the truth. "It was too dark, and the rain was pouring—I didn't get a clear look at the culprit or remember the license plate number." I hung my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "What did you say?" Sarah's father's voice suddenly rose, "You watched them get into the accident with your own eyes, but saw nothing? Are you doing this on purpose?" "Don't get worked up, maybe he really didn't see clearly." Someone nearby tried to reason with him, but Sarah's father refused to listen. "Didn't see clearly? He's an adult, and he can't even remember a license plate number?" Sarah's mother also stopped crying, her eyes filled with disappointment and resentment. "Seth is your son. How can you be so heartless? You just stand there watching him in danger, yet refuse to help identify the culprit?" I stood rooted to the spot, taking their accusations and insults, my heart aching as if cut by a knife. It's not that I don't want to identify him; I just don't dare. If I point him out, I don't know what terrible things might follow. But these words—I can't bring myself to say them aloud. All I can do is grit my teeth and silently endure it all. The lights in the emergency room are still on, as if silently reminding me that Seth is still in there, fighting for his life. There's a crushing weight on my heart, so heavy I can barely breathe.