My head throbbed with a sharp pain.

I opened my eyes slowly. The ceiling of my private study came into view. I lay flat on the floor. My chest heaved, and my shirt was soaked with sweat. The memory of the burning car and the ashes was fresh in my mind, making my hands shake.

I was eighteen when it happened.

My father was driving. My mother was beside him, and our driver was in the front with him. We were on our way home when another vehicle suddenly swerved into our lane.

My father tried to avoid it.

The car overturned several times before finally coming to a stop....