Prologue

" A re you sure it's okay that we're going to do this?" I asked Stacy while looking at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, applying mascara was a pain, but we were going to the local burger joint and wanted to look our best since the upperclassmen would undoubtedly be hanging out.

"I don't see why it wouldn't be," she replied, putting down her own tube of mascara and grabbing an eyeshadow palette. "I mean, I've had my license now for six months and that was their rule, remember? No passengers until I had six months of driving experience under my belt. We'll pick up Erika and Patty along the way, then head into town to hang out. It's not like we're going to be tearing up the roads, Emi."

I sighed, still worried that somehow, we'd get into trouble, although in reality, Stacy was a good driver. She had aced her written exam and gotten one of the highest scores during the practical test. Still, worry niggled at my brain, because I didn't want her to get into trouble with her parents, who were actually pretty great. I even had my own ‘room' at her house since I spent so much time with her and her family.

"Fine, I'll finish getting ready," I grumbled, adding another layer of mascara to my lashes in order to gain some thicker volume, and in the process, adding a longer, fuller look.

Once I was satisfied that my eyes would now pop, I deftly added some eyeshadow, then blended in blush on the apples of my cheeks. While I was going for a natural look, I still wanted to look as pretty as possible. Our town was home to some of the best-looking guys around, thanks to the sawmill that was on the outskirts near the creek. I held no illusions that the handsome lumberjacks who came into town would notice a group of teenage girls, but still, anything was possible, right? If nothing else, we'd have some eye candy to stare at while we scarfed down our shakes and burgers.

We giggled through the rest of our preparations until we were finally heading out the door to pick up Erika and Patty. As the music played through the car's sound system, we talked about our summer plans, which involved a lot of swimming, laying out and tanning, and of course, boy watching. You could say we were a bit boy crazy, and it would be the truth.

It happened on the way home. We'd spent a few hours hanging out with some of our other friends at the burger shack, talking about our summer plans, boys, and makeup. Joan Jett was blasting I Love Rock ‘n Roll through the speakers with me and Stacy singing along complete with head bounces, I'd just handed Patty her shake, and Erika was giggling at something on her phone. Because it was summer, it was still light outside, which was another ‘condition' Stacy's parents had with respect to her driving. Still, even though she was a good driver, she was no match for the pickup truck that was heading straight for us, in our lane , and like most drivers, she swerved, hitting the gravel shoulder, and when she tried to correct to return to the asphalt, she lost control.

As her Chevy Cruze started to roll down the embankment, our screams could be heard over the screeching of the metal as it hit the trees and rocks, and the shattering glass as it rained down on our bodies. Patty's shake covered the interior of the car, dripping down my face as I saw my best friend's terror at what was happening to us. We finally landed on our side, Stacy looking down at me, her face bloodied and bruised, her breath coming in rapid gasps. I cried out for Erika and Patty, but they didn't say a word and I couldn't see them from my slanted position. Reaching forward, I flipped down the visor and was able to see into the backseat, but spying Patty's opened, staring eyes, then Erika's head turned at an odd angle had me screaming for help.

"Stacy, Stacy, we have to get out of here," I yelled, trying to undo my seatbelt.

"H-h-help me, Emi," she whimpered, blood dripping from her mouth and face and landing on me.

I knew I was hurt; I could barely feel my legs because the front of the car was crushed inward, but I thought it was a good thing that I was able to wiggle my toes. "Come on, come on!" I yelled, pulling at my seatbelt, which was jammed because of the center console being smashed into the side of my seat. "I can't get it undone. Where's your phone? I'll call for help."

Her eyes were wide, fear etched into her features, as she slowly shook her head. "It… it fell," she whispered.

A tinny voice said, "This is OnStar, we show your vehicle has been in an accident. First responders have been notified." The sound was robotic in nature, not a real person, so I was unable to advise that there were four people in the car.

"I forgot that was one of the features," Stacy said, her voice becoming fainter as the minutes ticked by. "Help should be coming, Emi."

As her eyes closed, I cried out, "No, Stace, stay awake, honey. Please, Stacy."

"I-I-I love you," she murmured. "Never forget."

With tears streaming down my face, I reached out to grab her hand. "My best friend," I whispered. "Forever, Stacy, now please, open your eyes."

She gasped once and then I felt her grip loosen in mine. My pain was warring with my terror, and I could hear sirens closing in on us from a distance. "They're coming," I whispered, the horror I was surrounded by washing over me as I fell into the abyss of blessed unconsciousness.

"Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, there's no physical reason for Emilia's vision loss. She had no traumatic brain injury and sustained no impact to her head or face. Sometimes," the doctor said, "well, sometimes, the brain protects us from the events going on and we feel that's what happened in this instance."

"What can we do to help?" my mom asked.

I was propped in the hospital bed, my right leg and arm in traction, bruises covering the rest of my body where the airbags deployed, or I was struck with items flying around the car. As my head turned toward where my mom was sitting next to my bed, I briefly wondered if this was now my lot in life; disfigured, scarred, blind.