Deleted scene from Crashed

So I unexpectedly found a deleted scene from CRASHED that I thought you all might like to read. This scene takes place after Colton makes the 911 call when Rylee is at home alone with Zander and he hears her scream on the other end of the phone. I originally wrote the next chapter in his point of view, but decided to scrap it and write it in Rylee’s perspective. This is the chapter that I scrapped. 

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I know I was excited to revisit Colton, and I hope you guys are too. Here’s 2,000 more words from Colton…
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No.
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Please no.
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Rylee.
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Rylee.
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It’s all I can focus on as my tires squeal around the last turn onto her street. I’m a goddamn mess and the sight of police cars scattered all over the street – doors open, lights on, sirens off – scares the fuck out of me.
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Then relief.
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A rush of breath escapes because if they were injured, ambulances would be here, and if they were still inside, then the police would be running around in a frenzy to try and help them.
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But no one is doing a fucking thing except for all huddling around together, a line of black uniforms, shoulder to shoulder.
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Something to my right catches my attention and I freeze. The ambulance is here, the lights are flashing but the siren is silent.
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Spiderman.
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Why aren’t their sirens on?
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Batman.
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Why is everyone standing around?
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Superman.
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Where the fuck is Rylee and Zander?
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Ironman.
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Not possible.
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I can’t process the thoughts screaming in my own head. The ones lost in the fear clenching every single fucking part of me. No one’s moving. Lights on, sirens off. No Rylee or Zander in sight. The damage must already be done.
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He’s already taken them.
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Or worse.
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Numbness hits and the tang of fear I’ve only ever tasted before back in that dank fucking room of my youth fills my mouth. Owns my soul. Takes over.
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I drive as far as I can into the melee, with fumbling fingers I fling the door open, Rover still running, and sprint as fast as I can down the sidewalk. I try to shout, to call for her so she knows I’m here, but all that comes out is a rasp of sound, her name broken.
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Two policemen rush me, and I can’t hear a word they say because my only focus is on the front door, the caution tape I can now see being pulled tight across the street, the intensity in the faces of the wall of uniforms.
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I shove them off me, push as hard and as far as I can toward the front of the house because that yellow tape says crime scene, says he already has them.
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“Rylee,” I grunt out as they slam me back against the cruiser behind me. I’m strong, but have nowhere near enough strength to break free from two officers at once. Besides, I can’t focus on anything else other than on Rylee, on Zander.
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“Where is she?” I yell out. And I struggle so hard, need and adrenaline dominating my body and mind. “Rylee!” After a minute and not getting much farther except to notice other officers putting their hands on the butts of their holstered guns, I relent.
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Try to calm the fuck down but know it’s not going to happen.
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“Okay,” I tell them as I stop fighting. “Please just tell me—I’m the one who called—I know who’s in there!”
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And now I have their attention.
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Within moments I’ve explained everything I can, that I can fucking think of, but they haven’t said a single word to me. Nothing.
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An officer tells me to stay put, another keeps his hand on my shoulder, when all I want to do is shrug it off and run to The House a couple hundred feet away and see what the fuck is going on. But his hand remains firm and authoritative on my shoulder. He’s obviously afraid I’m going to fucking bolt. I do the only thing I can, I put my head in my hands and try to keep my heart from choking over the fear that’s lodged there.
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And I repeat the chant that she’s said for me in my time of need. Over and over.
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Fucking Christ. I need that little freckled face boy that showed up to help me, to appear right now. Vaporize out of thin fucking air again but I fear I won’t get a decision to make this time.
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I fear it’s too late.
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The officer must sense my restlessness, must know that if I don’t move some, I’m going to implode with the pressure in my chest and fear in my heart – the one she brought back to life. So he releases my shoulder and I’m immediately on the move, feet eating up the same six concrete panels of sidewalk, over and over.
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I look up when I hear footsteps, but keep my body moving to abate all of this nervous fucking energy. “Talk to me. Please,” I beg him. “Tell me she’s okay. Zander’s okay. He’s fucking traumatized. Please.” My voice breaks as tears prick the back of my eyes like pins. I welcome the pain, hold onto it because it’s the only way I can cope right now with the fucking unknown.
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“The woman and little boy—”
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“Her name is Rylee!” I shout at him. “She’s not a faceless, nameless fucking woman. She’s my Rylee.” My motherfucking checkered flag. Oh god! “And Zander. Rylee and Zander. Call them their names. Acknowledge that they’re people with families godammit!” I look around for something to punch, something to break into fucking pieces but it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to help Ry right now. Nothing is.
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I put my hands on my neck and pull down, force myself to breathe. I need to calm the fuck down or they’re going to kick me out of here. My chest aches and if I had any doubt before I know for sure now. The woman owns this heart of mine.
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I drop my head down as I wait for the officer to deliver the news I’m fucking petrified to hear.
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Rylee. Hang in there, baby. Be strong. For me. For Zander. Please.
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The police office looks at me again and I’m such a fucking mess—so inside of my own head—that I forgot he was going to give me information.
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“Rylee and Zander,” he says, looking at me to make sure I realized that he used their name, “and the suspect are isolated in the backyard.”
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“Then go in there and get him the fuck out of there! C’mon! Do your goddamn jobs!” I shout at them, hands fisted, teeth gritted. My mind is so overwhelmed that I don’t even have a chance to think about the stupidity of my comment until I notice the officer before me glance to the one beside me.
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And then I know.
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“Has he hurt her?”
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Silence.
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“A gun?”
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Silence.
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“Has he hurt Zander?”
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“No.”
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My chest fucking constricts because the only thing they say no to is my question in regards to Zander.
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My world spirals like the tumbling of the car in the wreck.
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And I only give myself a second to feel before I shut down. Fuck this. Fuck everyone.
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I shove away from them and pace down the sidewalk, pushing my hands out to the side and then bringing them up to lace behind my head as I blow out a huge breath and try to wrap my head around this all. I walk back to them with purpose, knowing the answer but I’m going to fucking demand it anyway.
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“You’ve gotta get me in the house. Right. Fucking. Now!” I demand as a dog starts barking somewhere.
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“Sir, keep your voice down. He doesn’t know we’re here and we’re trying to keep it that way. We’ve got tactical in the kitchen to take a shot if need be. We don’t want to escalate the situation.”
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And all I hear is that he doesn’t know we’re here. So that means Rylee doesn’t fucking know we’re here. She doesn’t know help is here. And that scares the shit out of me more than anything.
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My selfless saint.
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“If need be? He has a fucking gun right? What more do you need to know?” I shout at them in a harsh whisper.
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“We’re doing everything we can,” he says in that placating tone I want to rip from his throat.
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“No you’re not!” I bark at them. “Do you have them safe? NO YOU DON’T!”
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“Sir, if you can’t settle down, we’re going to have to escort you from the premises.”
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Panic rifles through me at the thought of being taken farther away from Ry and Zander than I already am. I look over at the house and think of earlier. My welcome kiss with Rylee, my chat with Shane. How could a perfect morning turn into this? How did I leave her to face this alone?
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I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head for a beat before looking back at the man in front of me. “Officer…” I glance at his name tag, try to make a connection with him so that he understands how important my next words are. “Officer Destin – Please, you have to let her know we’re out here. Zander’s one of her boys. She’ll do anything—anything—to keep him safe.” The thought terrifies me so fuck being calm, I grab the front of the officer’s shirt. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” I grate out through gritted teeth. “She’ll sacrifice herself for one of her boys…so fucking do something now!”
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Hands pull my shoulders back and away from the officer, warnings stated low and formidably from behind me. I take my hands off of him. “We’re doing everything we can to—”
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“Don’t give me the bullshit line. Don’t stand here. Do something!”
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They nod their heads like they get it but they don’t, not even fucking close. They don’t have a freight train of fear derailing inside of them because the people they care about are in a backyard with a murderer.
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Time fucking stretches.
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Seconds.
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Minutes.
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Forever.
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It feels like years are being scraped off my life with a dull fucking knife with each and every passing second. They move me into a tactical van near the front of the house. They say it’s to keep me better apprised of the situation but I know it’s because they can see me about to explode from the unknown and that when I do, they worry I’m going to compromise their operation.
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Fuckin’A.
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My mind races but I can’t focus on a goddamn thing but Rylee and Zander and being stuck inside this tiny truck where I can’t pace, I can’t talk, but I have to sit here with guys in headsets and monitors with white snow a constant on their screens.
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“I’m not letting you take him.”
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And then I hear her voice.
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My body jolts to attention. Adrenaline pumps like blood through my veins at that goddamn defiance in her voice, at knowing she’s all right.
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I immediately lean forward to see the grainy image that springs to life on the bank of monitors in from of me. I have to fight the sob of relief at just seeing her, hearing her voice when all I’ve felt for the past however fucking long it’s been is fear.
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And the wave of reprieve is short lived because when I can finally tear my eyes from her, all I can focus on in the grainy image but that’s clear as day, is the gun he has pointed directly at her.
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Maybe I should look and see what else I can find on this computer of mine…
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(To all of the grammar-gurus who already have their emails open to tell me the errors, please note this has never been professionally edited so I know it is not perfect)