Emergency, Call Dr Ford.

A frown settled on Christy's forehead as her eyes narrowed at the sight of two bloodied and half-conscious individuals.

Their bodies slumped forward, heads resting on the headrest of the front seat. Christy could see blood trickling down the young man's head, seated on the left side. She stretched out her hands, lifting his head to get a clearer view of his face, but his features remained indistinguishable.

Yet, his labored breathing reached her ears, accompanied by the distinct metallic tang of fresh blood that filled the air. Relief washed over her as she realized he was still alive, but she couldn't be certain about the other person in the car.

Goosebumps prickled on her skin as the cold night grew even harsher.

Christy crouched, contemplating her next move. She had stayed out late, and she knew her guardians would be worried sick. Moreover, she had no means to reach out to emergency services without a cellphone.

Letting out another audible sigh, she tugged at her disheveled wine-colored hair and rose from her crouched position, when something caught her peripheral vision.

With a small gasp, she bent down and saw the young man now awake, though visibly weak. He extended a mobile phone toward her. Its screen emitted a bright light, indicating it was on.

She swiftly took the phone, preparing to dial the emergency line, but a faint murmur stopped her. Frowning, she crouched closer, trying to hear what the young man was saying.

Despite her position and the phone still in her hand, its screen casting an illuminating glow, she strained to discern his words.

She heard him, his husky voice barely audible, his lips moving in the shadows as he struggled to communicate.

"Call Dr Ford."

The name reached her ears repeatedly, sounding familiar. Dr Ford—an acquaintance she knew.

"Got it," she replied, swiftly finding Dr Ford's contact on the phone. She dialed the number, waiting anxiously for him to answer.

As she waited, hoping for a response, her thoughts wandered to the motionless man on the other side. She prayed he was still alive.

The starless night grew gloomy, a portent of an impending downpour. Thunder rumbled ominously, and the wind grew even harsher. Christy wondered how long she could withstand the cold, her thin clothes offering little protection.

Her feet tapped rhythmically on the wet ground as she waited for the call to connect. Finally, after three rings, it did.

"Hey? Remember me all of a sudden? Is Noah failing as your psychologist?" Dr Ford's voice came through as soon as the call connected.

Christy furrowed her brow, taken aback by his tone. Indeed, it was the Dr Ford she knew, a peculiar coincidence.

"Dr Ford? What a pleasant surprise!" Christy greeted him, but the line fell silent.

"Christy? That's definitely your voice! Why the hell do you have his phone? Are you with him? How is that even possible? Someone explain what's happening!" Dr Ford sounded shocked, his dissatisfaction evident.

His disapproval piqued her curiosity.

"Uncle? Why do you sound that way? Like I've done something wrong. Anyway, there's an emergency." Her tone shifted from curiosity to urgency; time was running out.

But instead of a response, she heard him mutter to himself, "Don't tell me that brat has healed..." The words were barely audible, yet she caught them clearly. Who was he referring to?

"Uncle? Did you not hear me? There's an emergency—I'm at an accident scene, Christy interrupted, determined to convey the urgency of the situation. "A luxury car carrying two passengers and a driver was hit by a truck. I called you for help."

She spoke rapidly, hoping to elicit a prompt response from Dr Ford.

"Involved in an accident?" he questioned, his voice laced with concern.

Though unsure which individuals he referred to, she nodded resolutely.

"Can you at least..."

"Hold on! I'll track your location and call an ambulance! Just ensure no one dies. Okay? Okay?" Dr Ford interrupted in a hurried tone. She nodded in agreement, but before she could utter a response, the call abruptly ended.

Realizing the need to take action, Christy understood that she couldn't linger any longer. The weather showed no mercy, and Aunty Amelia would undoubtedly be worried sick.

What should she do?

Caught between saving lives and not causing undue distress to her guardians, she chose the former. A person's life took precedence in this critical moment.

With a heavy sigh, she sat on the damp ground, resting her back against the car's tire.

Raindrops descended relentlessly, transforming into a deluge, and within seconds, Christy was drenched to the bone.

Shelter was nonexistent, and the pit-pat sound of rain hitting the ground surrounded her. She shivered uncontrollably, her senses filled with the earthy scent of the downpour.

At this point, the cold threatened to overcome her, and she feared losing consciousness.