My sister and I were driving home to our parents’ house when we were in a serious car accident. My parents called 911. As soon as they arrived, they ran past my shattered door and straight to my sister. They carefully lifted her and stepped over my body on the asphalt while I crawled toward them with a broken leg and a broken arm, begging for help.

The Tesla behind us was racing at high speed.

My stomach tightened.

“Melissa, hold on tight.”

The impact threw us forward violently. Metal scraped against metal. The airbags deployed with tremendous force, and I felt something burst in my chest.

Our car spun around, hit the guardrail, and then stopped facing backward.

Pain radiated through my entire body. My left leg was trapped under the crushed dashboard, bent at an angle that blurred my vision. Warm blood streamed down my face, somewhere above my hairline.

“Melissa,” my voice was hoarse.

She leaned against the door, conscious but disoriented.

“Everything’s all right?”

She groaned and touched her forehead, where a bruise was already starting to form.

“I guess so. Baby…”

“Hold still,” I managed to say. “Help is on the way.”

I could already hear sirens in the distance. Someone must have called 911 immediately. My phone flew off the impact, lost in the wreckage. Every breath sent sharp stabs through my ribs. I tried to move my trapped leg and almost fainted from the pain.

The next 20 minutes blurred together. Firefighters arrived first, assessing the situation. Paramedics approached the car from both sides. I heard one of them radioing for more ambulances.

They opened Melissa’s door first. The passenger side suffered less damage. She cried and talked about her baby, and the paramedics calmed her and checked her vital signs, gently and professionally.

My door wouldn’t open. The entire driver’s side was folded into an accordion shape. They needed help. I could hear them setting up equipment, but everything seemed distant, like I was underwater.

More sirens approached. Through the shattered window, I saw my parents’ Mercedes pulling up behind the emergency vehicles. Thomas and Carol got out of the car, and I felt a wave of relief despite the pain shooting through my body.

My father looked panicked. My mother pressed her hand to her mouth. They ran towards the accident site, and for a moment I thought maybe this time would be different.

Maybe this time they will see me too.

They ran past the car without even looking inside.