[ WP ] All you hear is a dripping noise .

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the burn created by his seatbelt. It was the smell that tipped him off before the pain. The smell of burnt flesh, the friction from the seatbelt scorching his left arm as his Jeep rolled and rolled until it finally stopped upside down near the side of the road. 
 
 He was n't sure how many times the Jeep had turned over on itself, but it could n't have been less than three. And it's upside down now, so at least three and a half, he thought. 
 
 The roof above him had collapsed, enough to prevent him from turning to his right. And then the realization hit him with a thud. She was in the seat next to him. 
 
 It was their fourth date. The first three had gone increasingly well. They met at his friend's band gig. She was sitting at the bar, waiting for the bartender to acknowledge her existence and fill her glass with a scotch ale. His friend was the bassist in the band. Her's was the drummer. They ran into each other several more times that night. 
 
 Now she's sitting next to him in the passenger seat, upside down, deafeningly quiet. The collapsed roof prevents him from turning to her, and he's almost relieved. It's been maybe 10 seconds since they came to a stop, and he's too afraid to ask her if she's ok, because he's afraid she's not. 
 
 So he listens. 
 
 And all he hears is a drip. Then another. And another. Such a basic rhythm has never terrified a man so much. 
 
 Drip, drip, drip. 
 
 As he looked down at the neat line of blood slowly flowed past him on the car's ceiling, which was now below him, he knew he had to say something. Anything. 
 
 `` Jen? Jen, are you ok?'' 
 
 Drip, drip, drip. 
 

