The White Sheets at the Crossroads

The red invitation card was still spread out on the living room coffee table, the gold-embossed words "Happy Wedding" flashing painfully in my eyes. When the sharp ringtone pierced the quiet night, I was with Mark Shane, packing red envelopes for the best man and bridesmaids for tomorrow. The words "Traffic Police" flashed on the screen, and my fingers suddenly stiffened like stone. Mark Shane noticed my strange reaction, reached out to take the phone, pressed the answer button, and the smile on his face froze instantly after hearing the first words. "Send me the address. I'm on my way." His voice was taut like a drawn bowstring. After hanging up, he grabbed me and rushed out the door. The night scene outside the car window rushed by, neon lights casting mottled shadows across my face, but I couldn't see anything clearly. I only felt my heart being gripped tightly by an invisible hand. Mark Shane was driving recklessly, running two red lights. I mechanically said, "Be careful," but my voice was barely more than a whisper. The intersection where the accident happened was already sealed off with a police line; the flashing red and blue lights cut sharply through the night. I had just opened the car door and rushed toward the police line but was stopped by the traffic officers. My gaze passed over the crowd and settled on the road. That familiar white car sat crookedly by the roadside, its front end completely wrecked, with the airbags fully deployed. On the ground beside the car lay two white sheets, their outlines sharp and clear like knives frozen in ice, stabbing straight into my heart. "No—" I screamed as I lunged forward, my knees hitting the asphalt hard, the pain numbing me, yet I desperately crawled ahead. Mark Shane caught up with me and held me tightly; his chest was warm, but I felt icy all over. "Nona, don't do this, the doctors are still working on it." His voice trembled, but I couldn't catch a word he said. I struggled to lift the white cloth, wanting to see clearly if the people beneath were really my parents. At that moment, a sudden commotion broke out in the crowd, and a slender figure stumbled as she ran over. It was Yvonne Quentin. She had known Mark Shane since they were kids and had always stuck close to him, living with us all these years as the "little sister." Yvonne rushed up to the cloth, but after just one glance, her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground. Mark instinctively released me, stepped forward quickly, and lifted Yvonne up, calling her name anxiously. I lay on the ground, watching him carefully cradle Yvonne's head, his touch so gentle it felt unfamiliar to me. "Nona, I'll take Yvonne to the hospital first. She has a heart condition and can't handle any shock. I'll leave this place in your hands for now." He hurriedly gave a brief explanation, and before I could respond, he lifted Yvonne, put her in the car, and sped away. The night wind whipped up dust from the ground, stinging my eyes so I couldn't open them. I knelt there all alone beyond the police line, watching the police officers and medical staff coming and going, suddenly feeling like I'd been abandoned by the whole world. When my parents' bodies were being loaded into the ambulance, I finally lost my strength, everything went dark, and I fainted.