A young woman was slumped forward as much as her locked seat belt would allow, with blood trailing down the side of her face. Shards of glass twinkled on her shoulder and in her hair as they caught the beams of approaching headlights. For a minute I couldn’t move. It was like the worst case of déjà vu ever. The driver of the third car came out, limping and yelling that it wasn’t his fault. I ignored him and walked to the place where his front end was crunched against the side of the woman’s car. I looked around wildly, trying to figure out how to get to her.

I couldn’t let this happen again.

“Move your car!” I shouted and waved my arms like a madman in the face of the approaching driver. “We can’t reach her—your car, back it up!” He looked at me like I was mad. “Go!”

He back-pedaled, probably thinking I was crazed and would attack, yelling that it wasn’t drivable, that it wouldn’t move. He was right, it shouldn’t have moved, but it did—only about a foot before it died, but that was all the room I needed to be able to reach in through the broken window and jab my finger to her neck. There it was: a faint pulse beneath my shaking hand. I shrugged off my flannel and pressed it against her head.

The woman stirred slowly and made a low, unintelligible sound. Her eyes opened briefly, looked into mine, closed again, screwed shut tight with pain. “Hey there, take it easy,” I said, trying not to allow my voice to belie the terror I was feeling. “Just sit still, and you’ll be fine, okay?” Please let her be okay, please let her be okay. Sirens began to scream off in the distance. I glanced around, looking for their lights. “I hear the ambulances,” I told her; she was squirming, pinned in the seat. “They should be here any minute. Try not to move, okay? You might hurt yourself worse.”

She slowed her movements, then she stopped moving—and then she stopped breathing. I stared at her, not knowing what to do. “Hey, hey there, come on, wake up,” I said, gently tapping her cheek. The shirt was damp in my hand; blood had soaked almost the whole thing. “Come on, come on, breathe! I was yelling, my whole body shaking. I felt again for her pulse, but couldn’t find it. She was dying, or dead. “Oh God, don’t do this to me!”