chapter seven

At least this time, the music was good.

Oliver had almost gotten into three car accidents; Carson had offered to trade places with him five times and Celia had told Holden to shut up twelve more times in the past hour.

One knee bobbing up and down, Oliver gripped the steering wheel like his life depended on it--which, it probably did. He looked both ways before pressing his foot down on the gas slightly, but hastily retracted it when a car zoomed past them, honking their horn, barely skimming the front of the vehicle. Oliver released a shaky breath.

"Fucking hell, Oliver," Holden said, "that's like the tenth time. We've only been here for two hours."

Celia dug her elbow into Holden's ribs, which elicited a groan from the latter. "Oliver hates driving."

"Then why the fuck is he driving?" Holden asked, alarmed.

"Because it's my parent's car--now shut the fuck up," Oliver replied. It had taken him a few days to convince his parents to give him their precious car--which they'd really only agreed to after Oliver had kept asking over and over again, narrowly missing them beating the shit out of him in irritation--though it didn't come without conditions. He would have to do all of the chores around the house for five months, which Oliver had accepted, because it wasn't as if he didn't do more of the chores anyway.

"Olly," Carson said softly, "are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

Celia's eyes flickered back and forth between them, a grin blossoming on her face. Oliver ignored it. "No, no, I'm good. Thanks though."

"Dude, you look like you're about to pass out," Holden exclaimed. "You've looked like that for the past two hours--is it even possible to be in a perpetual state of passing ou-" He broke off when Carson glared at him. "You're doing great," he added.

Carson fake yawned. "You know I'm getting kind of tired," he said, "maybe we should stop somewhere."

"Listen, Romeo," Celia cut in, "we need to make it at least halfway there before we stop, or we'll be on the road for a lifetime. It's also the afternoon, so you can stop pretending to be tired for Oliver's sake."

Carson blushed. Oliver had to tear his eyes off of his freckles before he almost caused another accident.

"Guys! I'm fine. It's been awhile anyways, trust me--we're all good."

***

They had been all good. For a little bit.

But then Celia had said something funny, and they were all laughing, and Oliver looked at Carson. It was like time froze still--the brightness in his eyes, the grin on his face, the dimples in his cheeks, the laughter that bubbled out of him. Oliver had gotten distracted.

He had spared a glance, only for a few seconds. But a few seconds was all it took.

A car, with its blaring horn, had driven towards them, hitting the front of their vehicle and taking the bumper with it. A scream had torn itself out of Oliver and he closed his eyes in fear, hands immediately putting the car in park and retreating back to his body. People were screaming and it rung in his ears like a cacophony of noises.

Holden was swearing, Celia and Nico were shouting, and Carson...

Carson had his eyes wide in shock, hands gripping the seatbelt tightly, fear embedded in his tense frame. It was the perfect depiction of terror.

Oliver felt his heart pumping out of his chest and vaguely registered a faint pain blossoming inside of him as his forehead hit a hard surface. When time started again, the screaming ceased, and Oliver slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Fuck!" he yelled, "Fucking-"

"Oliver," Celia said in disbelief. "We just-"

"Olly, your forehead," Carson whispered. Oliver kept swearing vehemently. "Oliver!" Carson hollered to get his attention. Oliver stopped and looked at him, panting hard. "Your forehead," he finished.

A migraine was beginning to build up by his temples, but Oliver didn't care. He took off his seatbelt and slammed open the car door. He got ou, knees almost buckling beneath him. He spared a quick glance at the damage before shaking his head and running over to the other car. Footsteps followed behind him.

He knocked on the window, and after a moment's hesitation, it rolled down, revealing a middle-aged woman. She, too, was in shock, but when her eyes laid on Oliver, anger blazed through them. "Young man," she boomed, "what the hell were you doing? Were you checking your phone? You know it's illegal to-"

"I'm sorry," Oliver whispered. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes narrowed at him and Oliver shrank down under her gaze. "I think my back hurts, and my head slammed against the steering wheel. I might have a concussion." Oliver's heart sank, dread seizing him. "I might be really hurt," the woman continued, "who knows how much the insurance will cover..." she trailed off.

"Olly!" A voice called behind him. Carson. Oliver could recognize his voice anywhere.

He hated that they were all in the car with him. He had put his friends' lives in danger. He had almost killed them.

But he hated a little more that Carson was present.

Carson jogged up to him, scrutinizing the woman before turning his eyes onto Oliver. His gaze softened. "You're bleeding."

"Whatever--it doesn't matter," Oliver said. He was in a particularly foul mood. Rage stirred in him like a geyser, and he was three seconds away from denting a piece of metal with his fist.

"It does matter."

Oliver ignored him. "Did you call 911?"

Carson nodded. "They said they'll be here soon. Everyone else is in the car." He turned to the woman. "Hello, ma'am. Are you alright?"

The woman wrinkled her nose. "There are more of you? Fantastic. It's not bad enough that a dumb, irresponsible teenager wrecked my car, but he also has to bring more of his idiotic-"

Carson smiled tightly. "With all due respect, Oliver isn't irresponsible. It was an accident."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yes, well I certainly didn't cause these sorts of accidents when I was your age." She sat back, wincing. "Now, to wait for the paramedics."

***

"This is such bullshit--you know she's trying to get money out of you. She walked out of the car just fine, and then complained about her head and her back once the paramedics were in sight. Oliver, this isn't fair-" Celia protested.

"Celia," Oliver gritted out, "I can't do shit about it. It's my fault. She might be seriously hurt, so stop trash-talking people you don't know."

Celia took a step back, surprised. "But we all know she's lying. Oliver this isn't your fault--she was the one that hit you."

"I was too far past the line at the stoplight--that's why she hit me. It's my fault, so please just back off."

Celia opened her mouth to speak but closed it. She nodded tersely, walking back out towards the car.

"Sir," a medic approached him, "are you alright? Your forehead is bleeding, you could have a-"

"I'm fine."

"Either way, I need to test for a concussion. It's procedure."

"Did you test my friends?"

"A young man told us that you were the one who got it the worst. He said that we should--"

"No," Oliver cut in. "Go check them first. I'm okay. Once they're good, you can hound me."

"Sir--"

"I'm not letting you touch me until they're taken care of," Oliver demanded coldly.

The medic nodded stiffly.

***

Motels fucking suck.

The car was being towed, and, looking for a place to stay for the time being while Oliver's parents were on their way--probably to come murder him,--they had all combined their money, only being able to afford some shoddy motel. All of them had to share a room, and Oliver already wanted to be done with it all.

He wanted to be done with himself.

He had almost killed the people that he cared about--just because he was distracted. How could he ever forgive himself for that? What would he even say to them? Sorry didn't mean shit, not anymore. One wrong move and they could've died. That was the worst part about what had happened--imagining what could've gone wrong.

He had to stay away from Carson.

Oliver had it bad for him, and he had to stay away until he'd gotten over it.

If he could, that is.

Oliver shifted in the bed that he was sharing with Celia. They hadn't talked much. Everything always seemed to go to shit between them. Holden--ever the narcissist--had gotten his own bed, and Nico and Carson slept on the floor. Oliver figured that he was taking up space--it's not like he was going to fall asleep anyway. He didn't deserve to rest calmly like that. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Goodnight guys," Carson murmured. "I'm glad all of you are okay. You mean a lot to me."

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. Carson could've died, and if that happened, Oliver would hate himself for eternity.

Not like he already didn't.

Everybody responded, but once the silence settled, Oliver whispered, "I'm so fucking glad that you're all alive. I'm so sorry....Goodnight."

But everybody had already fallen asleep.

---

A/N: Damn. Shit went down. In my defense, this chapter totally just wrote itself and I didn't plan for this to happen. That's a pretty weak excuse so just blame me haha.

Did you guys enjoy the update? Idk a little part of me thinks it went really fast but if I included everything that goes into a car accident, this chapter would never end. So yeah. Feelings? Emotions? Which characters do you like? Hate? Let me know, I'd love to chat with you guys about it xx

By the time you're reading this update, I'll be at my first day of hell. I mean school. This means two things.

1) my death

2) a possibility of irregular updates

Don't hate me for the second thing. I'll do my best but I genuinely finished this chapter 7 minutes before I have to go to bed. I'm trying haha. As for the first thing... well it's Wattpad. Even ghosts can update stories. Anywho, wish me luck!

Xoxo,

A Shadowhunter Wannabe,

herondaledevices <3