EMILY
BLACK ICE GIVES NO WARNING. One second, you're driving on the road like normal. The next, you're sliding out of control.
You can't see it coming. You can't do anything to stop it once you're on top of it.
All you can do is take your foot off the gas and pray.
I do that now.
I'm not going fast, but this road is sloped downhill, and I'm accelerating whether I want to or not. Instinctively, I brake, even though I know brakes are useless on black ice.
The car fishtails, spins, and lands in the icy ditch by the side of the road.
The car lands backwards, so I'm facing the wrong way.
In that moment, I'm both lucky and unlucky. Lucky, because there's a big snowdrift to cushion the impact. And unlucky, because now that snowpack has me wedged.
Stuck.
I can't even wedge the door open.
I'm going to have to shatter the window to get out.
