After the Crash I Was Bleeding to Death,But My Wife Chose Saved Her Claustrophobic First Love

A chain-reaction pileup on the interstate, right in the middle of the Lunar New Year rush. The car was crushed almost beyond recognition.

Gasoline fumes hung thick in the air. My thigh was pinned beneath twisted metal, blood pooling fast. My vision started to blur at the edges.

My wife, Katherine Pruitt, sat in the passenger seat without a scratch.

Her "close male friend" was in the back.

When the Rescue Squad arrived, they could only extract one person at a time.

Blood streaked down my face. I reached out with a trembling hand.

"Katie... save me first... my leg's almost severed..."

Katherine slapped my hand away and spun around, shielding the man behind her with her own body.

"Get Ferdinand out first! He has claustrophobia—this will traumatize him!"

The rescuer's voice went sharp with urgency. "Ma'am, your husband has arterial bleeding! If we don't get him out now, he'll go into shock!"

Katherine's face twisted with irritation. "So he's bleeding a little—so what? If Ferdy suffers psychological damage, that's for life!"

She shot me a withering look. "Emmet Dickerson, can you stop being so selfish for once? Just hold on! Do you really have to compete with someone who's sick?"

——

Click.

A flash of cold steel in Katherine's hand—rescue shears.

One clean cut through my seatbelt.

The buckle had warped in the crash, its twisted metal hooked around Ferdinand Fox's left leg in the backseat, pinning him in place.

The moment the strap snapped, the tension released.

The mangled steel panel that had been held back sprang free.

WHAM.

It slammed into my right thigh.

The leg that was already trapped. Already fractured.

The sound that came next—a wet, grinding crack—was bone shattering.

"AAAAAAGH—!"

My whole body seized. The scream that tore out of me echoed off the crumpled walls of the car, inhuman and raw.

Cold sweat drenched my back instantly. Black spots exploded across my vision.

That kind of pain—the kind where you can feel your bones being crushed into pieces.

Katherine didn't even glance back.

"Shut up, Emmet! What are you screaming for? You're scaring Ferdy—he's shaking!"

She tossed the shears aside and turned, her voice softening to honey as she reached for the man in the backseat.

"Ferdy, it's okay now. The strap's gone. Here—give me your hand."

Ferdinand Fox was curled in the corner of the backseat.

His face was pristine. Not a speck of dust. Not a drop of blood.

Yet there he sat, clutching his chest with both hands, gasping like a drowning man.

"Katherine... I'm scared... It's so dark in here... Am I going to die...?"

His voice cracked, eyes darting around in theatrical terror.

Katherine's expression crumbled. Her eyes rimmed red in an instant.

"Don't be scared, don't be scared. I'm here. The rescue team is getting you out right now."

Captain Grant Mercer had seen enough.

Sweat dripping down his face, he wrenched at the car door and shouted:

"Ma'am! What are you doing? Your husband's thigh just suffered a secondary crush injury—his artery may have ruptured! We need to extract him immediately!"

"The gentleman in the backseat is frightened, yes, but his vitals are stable. He can wait for the next team!"

"Katie... save me... it hurts so much..."

My voice came out thin as a whisper. Barely audible.

But I knew she heard me.

Katherine's hands stilled for just a moment.

Then she turned—and planted herself directly in front of the door, blocking it with her body. Arms spread wide. A mother hen shielding her chick.

"Save Ferdinand first! I'm the next of kin—I make the call!"

"If anything happens, it's on me! Emmet's built like a tank; he's not going to die from a little blood loss!"

"Ferdy has severe claustrophobia! If he doesn't get out now, he'll have a complete mental breakdown! Psychological trauma lasts a lifetime—don't you people understand that?!"

Captain Mercer ripped off his helmet and hurled it to the ground.

"This is insane! This is murder!"

But Katherine wasn't listening.

She grabbed Ferdinand by the arms and hauled him out of the backseat, pushing him toward the waiting stretcher.

"Go! Get him to the hospital! I want the best psychiatric specialist you have!"

Ferdinand lay on the stretcher as they carried him past me.