text: I'd taken that route a thousand times. Maybe even more. Every bend and curve became muscle memory to me. Every tree and every rock became recognizable. The view of the valley below, as you cling to the edge of the mountain peak, became as common a sight to me as my own home. Every day on my way back home, my bike and I would cling to the tarmac of that winding road, the cool mountain air and the hum of the engine below me becoming part of my routine. Brake here, swing hard there. Accelerate until there. Maybe I wasn't being as careful as I should have been. Maybe the darkness caused the irregularity, causing the all-recognizable treeline to become strange and menacing to me. Maybe the shadows stretched the road an extra inch that I wasn't used to. All I know is, I didn't brake in time. I could see it coming, but it was just too late. I slammed the brakes as hard as I could, my tires locking below me as they squealed and smoked in protest. But it wasn't enough. I slammed into the safety barrier, the impact jarring my bones as it traveled through my body. My bike came to a dead stop as the barrier crunched around it. I didn't stop. There was a moment of weightlessness. I felt calm as I rose in the air, my thoughts collecting themselves into a resounding 'oh fuck', as my situation sunk in. Then I fell, my stomach sinking into my gut as I realized what it meant. My moment of weightlessness was over as gravity swiftly re-affirmed its hold on me, reminding me sharply of what happens to those who defy it. I smashed into the first tree, the impact crashing through my frail body as I heard my own bones *crunch*. Momentum carried me onward, flipping me over as I flew through the trees at breakneck speed. After what felt like an eternity, I hit the bottom hard, the unrelenting ground coming up and forcing the air out of my lungs. I laid there for a moment, as my brain frantically assessed the damage. That was when I first screamed. My body burned, the skin over my leg stretching taut where bones lay broken under its surface. I pushed myself up, leaning myself against a fallen log, my vision going white as fresh pain seared through me. I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to force back the darkness of unconsciousness as I assessed the damage. My leg was bent at the wrong angle, in two places where it shouldn't be. It hurt to breathe. My arm felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer and my head felt cloudy, unfocused. My stomach felt warm, though. Wet. I lifted up my shirt, letting out a small cry as I saw the branch sticking through it. It was the width of my thumb, and there was no telling how deep it had gotten. I started to panic as blood slowly seeped out the wound, painting my stomach a violet color in the moonlight and drenching the soil beneath me in an endless stream. I needed help. I needed help badly. I pawed at my jacket pocket, forcing my shaking fingers to rip open the velcro holding it closed and fishing out my phone. I tapped the fingerprint scanner and it came to life, bathing me in its blissful LED light. It still worked. It survived the crash. Thank God. I clumsily opened its dialer, then typed those three numbers that were seared into my head since I was a kid. I put it on speaker and forcefully flipped up my helmets visor, as the call connected on the first ring. "Hello! Nine-triple-one here, how may I help you?" said a light, cheery voice through the speaker. "Gah, fuck, I need an ambulance!" I managed to croak out through clenched teeth. "Please, it's urgent! I fell off the side of I-40, and now I'm... I'm bleeding everywhere, and... And... Oh God, think I broke a few bones." Silence hung in the air for a moment, as the lady on the other line stayed silent. I took a few shallow breaths, trying not to agitate my chest any more than it already was. Suddenly, she laughed. It was sincere, almost apologetic, but with every passing moment I became more and more infuriated by it. "What the fuck? I need help!" I started screaming into the microphone, in an attempt to shut her up. "Why the fuck are you laughing?!" "Oh my, I'm sorry! It's just... Heh... Hoo boy... You must be looking for nine-one-one right?" she replied. "Yes! Fuck! I need serious help!" I shouted, as I watched my life drain from the hole in my stomach. "Oh my, I'm sorry, but it seems you called the wrong number!" she said, her voice straining as she tried to hold back further laughter. "A common mistake, but a mistake nonetheless! Sorry about that!" For a moment it didn't sink in. My mind, in its haze, just couldn't process this new information. I stared at the screen of my phone for a few moments, "**9111**" displaying in bold on its screen. My vision started to go dark, as the cold crept through my body. My head started to feel light. "Fuck, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die here." I started to cry, my eyes burning as the first tear fell and I realized just what I had done to myself. It was stupid of me. Stupid to think that I was better at driving than I was. Stupid to think I could judge the distance the same at night as in day. Stupid to drive so fast in the first place. It was a stupid thing to do, and I'm going to die a stupid death because of it. "Alright. Sorry about that. Bye." I managed to say to the speaker, as I attempted to lift my hand and hang up. "Woah, hold your horses there Michael deary. If you hang up now you won't be able to contact anyone else." the lady said, her voice becoming serious for the first time. "You've lost a lot of blood, right? Try moving your fingers." For a moment I sat there, confused. I didn't remember giving her my name, but my head was so fuzzy, I couldn't be sure if that's true. I stared at my hands, I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, but I could still see them hanging there, limp. I tried wiggling them. I could barely get them to wiggle the way I wanted them to. I couldn't feel them. She was right. If I somehow managed to hang up, I wouldn't be able to manipulate my fingers into dialing the right number anyways. As it got even colder, I realized that this stranger will be the last person I'll ever speak to. "Fuck. I'm going to die." "Not necessarily, Michael my dear. See, we can still help you. It'll just cost a bit... More than usual." she replied, her voice washing over me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. "How much?" I slurred, as I barely kept my consciousness. "Don't worry about it for now. All I need is for you to say yes, and we'll work out the fine details another time. How about it?" she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. I didnt wanna die. I really didn't. If she could help, I wanted her to. "Yes." I managed to spit out, before I lost consciousness. My body was floating, the sound of the ocean waves washing over me and becoming louder and louder, roaring in my ears and drowning out all other sounds as I floated upwards, out of my broken body to somewhere better. Somewhere where it wasn't so cold. Before I reached the top, I heard a ladies voice. It cut through the rumbling waves and whispered clearly into my ear. "Perfect, Michael! See you in twenty years." I woke up a few days later in a hospital bed, attached to countless wires and drips. At first I had no clue where I was, what day it was, or even who I was. I had a severe concussion, three breaks in my left leg, a hairline fracture in my left arm and three broken ribs. On top of all that, I had severe open wounds in my abdomen thanks to the branch that lodged itself in there. The doctors told me it was a miracle it missed anything vital, and that if it was a millimeter out to any side, it would have hit major arteries and I would have likely bled out before help arrived. A family was driving home when they found my wreck of a bike on the side of the hill, still smoking, and stopped to investigate. When they saw that the barrier was smashed through, and that there was no driver in sight, they called for help. The rescue team found me at the base of the mountain, about a hundred meters down, crumpled over myself and passed out. They found my phone next to me, it's screen still on, the words "call disconnected" flashing across it. The recovery took months, the first few weeks spent in a confused daze as the concussion caused short-term memory loss. I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I couldn't remember my girlfriend's name, or that we moved into town two years ago. But slowly I regained my memories. It started bit by bit and in no particular order. I'd remember my old managers retirement party, or a date with my girlfriend a year ago. After a few weeks, though, it all came back to me. I remembered the crash. The whistling of the wind flying past my helmet. The crack of the branches breaking against me. The shock I felt when I finally landed. The pain searing through me as the adrenaline wore off. I also remember the lady. How she laughed and laughed at me. How she offered me a deal, and that I took it. But worst of all, I remember what she said as the world slipped away from me and went dark. Her voice as smooth as butter, dripping with honey and venom.