The Next Big Thing
Chapter 159: Accident II

Chapter 159: Accident II

The crash was deafening. The entire car jerked violently to the right, sending David, Mohamed, and Prakesh into a chaotic whirlwind of motion. The sound of metal crumpling, tires screeching against the road, and the force of the impact drowned out all coherent thought. "FUCK! SHIT!" David screamed, his heart racing as the car slammed into the nearby sidewalk barrier with a sickening crunch. His body whipped forward, the seatbelt digging painfully into his chest. His head slammed hard against the front seat, the jolt leaving his skull ringing like a bell.

The world spun wildly for a moment as the car finally came to a halt. The air was thick with dust and the smell of burnt rubber, the metal of the car groaning as if protesting the brutal collision. For a few agonizing seconds, everything was eerily silent, save for the ringing in David’s ears. Then the groaning began.

"OOF! FUCK!" David groaned, his hands instinctively reaching for his head. His neck was sore, and his head felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. Rubbing his forehead, he winced, trying to shake off the disorientation.

His head throbbed, but his focus quickly shifted as he heard a weak groaning from beside him. His eyes snapped to the side, and the sight of Mohamed’s slumped figure sent a chill straight through him. Mohamed was still in his seat, but his eyes were shut tight, his body swaying slightly. And then David saw it. The bloodstain on Mohamed’s head.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Mohamed!" David shouted, panic rising in his voice. "Are you okay? Is everything fine?" His voice cracked as he reached over, trying to shake his friend awake, but Mohamed remained unresponsive for a moment.

Mohamed weakly lifted his hand, brushing his forehead, his fingers moving sluggishly as if fighting off the fog of unconsciousness. "I’m okay... I’m okay..." he mumbled, his voice faint, but the blood on his head told a different story. David’s chest tightened, and he quickly felt his own head, making sure he hadn’t been injured in the same way. No blood. Just a dull ache.

A sigh of relief washed over him. Mohamed was alive. But the relief was short-lived.

Suddenly, David’s head snapped up, his eyes darting to the driver’s seat. "Prakesh!" he shouted, his voice rising with anxiety. "Are you alright?" His throat constricted as he thought back to the crash and Prakesh’s unresponsiveness. Without waiting for an answer, David quickly glanced forward.

The sight that greeted him was far worse than he could have ever expected.

Prakesh was slumped forward, his face buried in what David could only assume was the airbag. The man’s head was pressed so deeply into the cushion that David couldn’t even see his eyes. His arms were at an odd angle, and his body was unnaturally still. The airbag had deployed with terrifying force, and it looked like Prakesh was completely buried in it. His eyes were shut, and the way his body was slumped over made David’s stomach drop.

"Prakesh!" David shouted again, his voice filled with fear and desperation. He couldn’t just sit here. He had to help.

His hands moved to the door handle, but the door was jammed. David’s heart began to race. He pulled and twisted, yanking on the handle, but it refused to budge. He quickly turned to Mohamed, who was still groaning beside him. "Dude, Prakesh needs our help! He’s passed out!" David shouted, his words coming out in a frantic rush. He looked at Mohamed, but Mohamed was still dazed, too shaken by the crash to react quickly.

David felt his panic starting to spiral. His hands shook as he pounded on the door, desperate to get it open. His mind was running wild. He couldn’t lose anyone today. Not Prakesh. Not after all this.

"Shit! Shit!" David cursed, his frustration growing as he slammed his fist against the door one more time. It didn’t open. His mind raced even faster, his blood pumping with adrenaline. He couldn’t stay here. He had to do something.

Suddenly, he had an idea. His eyes flicked down to his legs. His left leg. He had to do this. It had never failed him before.

David raised his leg, positioning it against the door. He closed his eyes, a fleeting moment of calm washing over him before he gathered every ounce of strength in his body. "Let’s do this," he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl of determination.

With a sharp exhale, he swung his leg forward, kicking the door with all his might. The impact was like a bolt of lightning shooting through his body, and his leg screamed in pain, a sharp numbness shooting up his calf. But the door... the door finally gave way.

David heard the satisfying sound of the door breaking open, the metal groaning as it popped free. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through him. He ignored the overwhelming pain in his leg as he scrambled to his feet. Without hesitation, he pushed through the door and jumped out of the car. His body was still reeling from the crash, but there was no time to waste. Prakesh needed him.

He didn’t even look back to see if Mohamed was following him—he just knew he had to get to Prakesh. His heart was thudding in his chest, his mind locked onto the only thing that mattered: getting to his driver, his friend.

David sprinted to the other side of the car, his feet pounding against the pavement as he reached Prakesh’s door. He grabbed the handle, yanking at it with everything he had, but it wouldn’t open. His breath hitched, panic clawing at him. "Shit! Shit!" he cursed, his mind spiraling into chaos.

He turned to Mohamed, who had managed to stumble out of the car behind him. Mohamed’s face was pale, his body still unsteady as he reached for the door too. "It’s stuck, man! The door won’t open!" David shouted, his voice rising with desperation.

"Fuck, what are we gonna do?" Mohamed muttered, his hands shaking as he tugged on the door as well. They both pulled, pushed, and kicked, but nothing worked. The door was jammed, and Prakesh was still unconscious inside.

David was shaking, hands slick with sweat as he tugged frantically at the jammed door. His fingers were raw, but the door refused to budge. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as he pulled, pushed, and shoved, desperation surging in his chest. "The fucking door is locked!" he shouted, his voice laced with panic.

Beside him, Mohamed was right there, trying to help, but no matter how hard they tried, the door wouldn’t give. Then, in the midst of the chaos, David’s eyes caught something inside the car. A movement. A slight drop of Prakesh’s head, as if he had finally slumped forward even more. His heart skipped a beat, and dread settled deep in his stomach.

David’s breath hitched as he saw Prakesh’s face. It was flushed, his skin pale but tinged with the remnants of the crash’s force. His head rested awkwardly against the airbag, and his eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted in unconsciousness. Blood had begun to pool around the edges of his scalp where the airbag had struck him. It was worse than David had feared. The man was out cold, and worse—he was unresponsive.

"Shit. Shit. Shit..." David muttered, the panic rising in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process. All he knew was that Prakesh needed help. Fast.

Turning quickly to Mohamed, he snapped, "Come!" The words were clipped, desperate, as he spun around and bolted back toward the door he had just forced open.

The screech of tires and the sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention. He didn’t stop. His focus was entirely on getting to Prakesh. But then, a voice shouted, cutting through the thick fog of fear clouding his mind.

"Are you okay? Is everything alright? Is everything fine?" The voice was worried, frantic even, but David didn’t even spare a glance. He was already past the person before they could even finish speaking. The person’s presence was a blur, their frantic face a fleeting image as David brushed past them, even bumping their shoulder in his haste.

Mohamed, still reeling from the crash, followed David but slowed down as he took in the person’s face. His eyes widened in surprise, recognition hitting him like a punch to the gut. "Holy shit..." he whispered, though the words didn’t quite form as he tried to process who the hell that was.

But just as Mohamed began to form a coherent thought, David’s frantic voice cut through the tension like a knife, "Mohamed! Where are you?! Hurry up!" The urgency in David’s tone shook Mohamed from his momentary stupor, and he snapped into motion, putting the figure he had just seen out of his mind for the moment.

He rushed toward the car, and when he reached David, he saw him struggling, crawling toward the front seat. His heart slammed in his chest. David was dragging Prakesh out, his movements frantic, disjointed. His face was flushed with exertion and fear, his body trembling as he pulled his friend from the wreckage, one agonizing inch at a time.

Mohamed couldn’t believe it. This was a disaster. They couldn’t afford to waste any time.

"Dude, you would not believe who that was," Mohamed shouted in a hurried tone, his voice shaking. "Like, I swear—"

But before he could finish his sentence, David, eyes wild with fear, barked back, "Guy, help me pull him out!" His voice was sharp, panicked, cutting through the chaos. There was no time for anything else. There was no time for questions, no time for explanations.

Without another word, Mohamed rushed to David’s side. The urgency of the situation was more pressing than anything else, and both of them worked together to pull Prakesh out of the wrecked car. The weight of the unconscious driver was heavier than it looked, and every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, they managed to get him out. The relief was brief—a fleeting, momentary peace. But it was shattered in an instant.

A horn blared from the front, cutting through the night air, and the sound sent a jolt through both men. They turned in unison, eyes wide with disbelief. There, standing in front of them, was the person they had seen moments earlier, the one David had brushed past. But now, he was shouting, his voice high and urgent, his words coming out in a rush.

"Get in! Let’s go to the hospital!" The man’s tone was frantic, bordering on terrified, his body tense with fear. He didn’t give them a chance to react. His eyes were wide with panic, his hands waving toward them, urging them to move.

he car screeched to a halt at the entrance of the hospital, the tires barely gripping the slick pavement as it slid to a stop. The moment the engine shut off, David was out of the car, pulling Prakesh’s limp body from the backseat, Mohamed following closely behind. Their feet pounded the ground as they rushed toward the emergency room doors, shouting for help.

"Help us! Someone, help!" David’s voice was ragged, desperation seeping into every word.

Nurses and doctors flooded out to meet them, their eyes wide with concern as they rushed to take Prakesh from their arms. "Quick, get him on a gurney!" one of the nurses barked as another quickly shoved past, starting to take Prakesh’s vitals, muttering to herself. "Pulse is weak. Blood pressure’s dropping."

David and Mohamed, breathless, stood there for a second, their minds struggling to catch up with the scene unfolding before them. But it didn’t matter. They had to help Prakesh. They couldn’t let him slip away.

"What happened to him?" a doctor asked, her voice a mixture of professionalism and concern, as she examined Prakesh’s condition on the spot.

"Car crash—he’s unconscious," David managed to get out between breaths, his hands shaking as he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "We tried to pull him out, but—"

"Get him to the trauma unit, now!" The orders were sharp, and within seconds, a team of nurses and doctors were scrambling, moving in perfect synchronicity, like a well-oiled machine. The tension in the air was palpable.

David and Mohamed watched in stunned silence as Prakesh was wheeled away. The bright, sterile light of the emergency room seemed to cast shadows over the scene. Nurses hurried back and forth, exchanging hushed words with each other, pulling IV lines, checking monitors, all while trying to stabilize their patient. The soft beep of the machines filled the room, and the sound made David’s heart race even faster.

The nurses and doctors moved in a blur, and just as quickly as the chaos had started, Prakesh was out of their sight, carried into the deeper recesses of the hospital.

"Sorry, you’ll have to wait here," a nurse said to David and Mohamed as they moved to follow.

David stood frozen. His eyes were locked on the hallway, watching as the emergency team disappeared from view with Prakesh. His body was tense, hands still trembling, and his mind was racing. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, his chest tight as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, the noise of the hospital faded. All David could hear was the echo of his own heartbeat, thudding loudly in his ears.

And then, he saw Mohamed stagger.

Mohamed’s legs wobbled, his posture uneven as if the strain of the night was finally catching up with him. David’s heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he reached out, grabbing Mohamed by the arm to steady him.

"Mohamed! Are you okay?" David’s voice was thick with concern.

"I’m fine," Mohamed managed, his voice hoarse. He took a deep breath, steadying himself against David’s grip. "Just a little dizzy. My head’s spinning... I’ll be fine."

David wasn’t convinced, but before he could say anything else, Mohamed shook his head, trying to pull away. "Let me go see someone. I need to check on myself. I’m fine, just wait here for news on Prakesh."

David watched as Mohamed began to move away, wobbling as he went. He wanted to stop him, to help him, but his own frustration and worry for Prakesh clouded his thoughts. As Mohamed took a few more unsteady steps, he paused, glancing back at David.

"Can’t believe it’s really him..." Mohamed said, his voice trailing off as he nodded toward something—or someone—behind David.

David’s heart froze. He turned, eyes narrowing, and followed the direction of Mohamed’s gaze. A chill shot down his spine as he saw the man—the same man from the accident. The driver. The one who had caused it all.

The realization hit David like a freight train. The person who had nearly killed them, who had dragged them into this nightmare, was standing there, calm as ever, his hands in his pockets, looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world. But David knew better.

Without another thought, David’s blood boiled. His body surged with rage as everything inside him snapped. The pressure, the fear, the adrenaline—it all exploded. He didn’t care who the man was, or who he might be. All that mattered was that this person had wrecked everything.

He stormed forward, eyes blazing with fury. "Hey, you!" he shouted, his voice like a roar that echoed through the hospital.

The man’s eyes flicked to him, and the color drained from his face in an instant. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, David cut him off.

"Shut it!" David’s voice was low, guttural, filled with rage. The room seemed to go silent around them as David’s anger spilled out. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached.

The man stammered, raising his hand as if to apologize, but David wasn’t having it. "Shut the fuck up!" he roared, his voice booming off the walls. The hospital’s sterile quietness suddenly felt like an oppressive weight.

The man’s or rather eyes widened in shock. "I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

David didn’t give him a chance to finish. He was seeing red. His fists were trembling with fury, and the sound of the man’s voice made his blood boil even hotter.

David stepped closer, glaring at the man, his teeth gritted. "You," he growled, every word dripping with venom. "You nearly killed us. Do you understand that? You Bastard."

David had recognized the man’s face the moment they’d crossed paths on the ride over. His mind had been too clouded with the chaos of the accident, the fear for his friends, and the rush to get to the hospital to care much about it. But now, standing there, all the pieces clicked into place, and it hit him like a slap to the face.

This wasn’t just some random driver. This was someone important the player everyone was talking about in the transfer window. The Manchester United player. The one who had been linked to the club all summer long.

David’s heart pounded in his chest, but all he could feel now was the boiling fury coursing through his veins. The realization, sharp as a knife, cut through the chaos of his thoughts. He didn’t care who the man was, didn’t care about his status, or the fact that he was some rising football star.

All he saw was the person who had caused it all.

He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists, his voice shaking with rage. "You... Jordan Sancho."

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