Crushed: Hunted for a Child’s Death / Chapter 2: Under Attack
Crushed: Hunted for a Child’s Death

Crushed: Hunted for a Child’s Death

Author: Mr. James Price MD

Chapter 2: Under Attack

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He was on me before I could move. I tried to explain, but he leapt, kneeing me in the chest so hard I thought I’d throw up.

White-hot agony shot up my torso. My vision swam with stars. I crashed against the car door and crumpled to my knees.

My heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst. I gasped for air, body shaking, my head spinning with terror. This was no time for reason.

I thought of that case—a cyclist killed by a car, the driver beaten to his knees by a furious crowd before the cops even arrived. Today, that could be me. I might never make it to trial.

They didn’t care about me. The crowd dropped to the ground, checking on the child, wailing and sobbing. The old man who’d been cursing shuffled away, too afraid to watch.

My head buzzed with survival instinct. I forced myself through the pain, grabbed the door handle, and clawed my way back into the car. These people were wild with grief. I didn’t dare imagine what they might do next.

The woman saw me trying to get in and immediately latched onto my legs, shrieking, “He’s trying to run! Don’t let him get away!”

I struggled, trying to climb inside, but she yanked me back out with desperate strength.

The man jumped up, grabbed the heavy car door, and slammed it shut with all his might, bellowing, “Don’t you dare try to run!”

The door crashed down on my leg.

I looked back, horror flooding me, as my own leg was smashed—bone splintering, pain blinding. White-hot agony shot up my leg, my vision swimming with stars. I tasted blood, not sure if it was mine. I screamed, but he didn’t stop.

He raised his foot and kicked the door again and again, each blow a hoarse, sobbing roar: “You’re gonna pay for this! I swear to God!”

The steel pounded my shattered leg over and over. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. Eventually, everything went numb—just heat, burning, and distant stings.

Clutching the passenger seat, I dragged myself inside. He kicked the door shut again, trapping me.

But he wasn’t done. He yanked the handle, trying to rip the door open. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I shoved the passenger seat, wedged myself against the driver’s side, and slammed the lock button down.

Almost instantly, the handle jerked. I let out a shaky breath. If I’d been half a second slower, he’d have gotten in.

He hammered his fists against the window, rage twisting his face. Trembling, I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911.

The dispatcher answered. I begged them to hurry, voice shaking. “Please, they’re attacking me!”

“Stay on the line with me,” the dispatcher said, calm but urgent. “If you’re in danger, you can leave the car, but don’t drive off. Officers are on their way, okay? Can you tell me your exact location?”

“I can’t escape,” I choked out. “My leg’s broken, I can’t walk, and if I drive, I’m afraid I’ll hit someone. Please, hurry!”

Clutching my phone, I stared out at the couple’s furious faces. I looked down at the bone jutting from my leg, voice trembling with tears. “I’m scared—they’re going to kill me right here on the street.”

While I was on the line, the man whipped out his own phone and smashed it against my window. The hammer crashed against the glass with a sickening crack, spiderwebbing it in an instant. I forced myself to stay calm—car glass doesn’t shatter like normal glass. Even if it broke, it’d hold together for a while.

In a moment of desperation, I thought about calling my wife—but I couldn’t do it. My second call was to an old classmate, a lawyer. When he finally answered, I broke down, sobbing, “Help me!”

He sounded panicked. I explained, voice breaking, “Only one of my legs still works. Can I drive away? I’m scared—if I hit them while fleeing, I’ll go to jail!”

He was almost in tears himself. “You’re already going to jail! If you can avoid running, don’t run. If you hit someone while escaping, you’ll get even more years!”

His words hit me like a slap. Already going to jail? He’s a lawyer—if even he says I’ll be sentenced, what hope do I have? I have a wife, a child, parents. I’ve never broken the law. And now the law is going to destroy my family?

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