This is the very first draft and I just want to know if the idea is okay. Also I’d like any suggestions on how to fix it… (Adam is Ana’s twin brother)

A transport truck is coming to the side. Too fast. It doesn’t see us.
The car goes flying as we collide. It rolls over again and again. The glass shatters and cuts my face. My leg is crushed as the transport truck tips over half the car. I scream. I feel my bone shatter. The car stops on its side.
I hang in the car, pain engulfing me. I can’t move. There is more blood.
"Adam?" I call out.
No answer.
"Adam!" I call out, more urgently.
I turn my neck painfully.
He isn’t in his seat.
I panick, grab a piece of glass and start to saw off the seat belt holding me captive in my seat.
I finally cut through and fall on my back.
Sharp pains sting me. I ignore them and push myself through the broken window with my good leg and my good arm. My other arm won’t move. I jostle my shattered leg, and suppress a scream.
I slid on sharp glass that cuts through my shirt and back. I scream, pushing with all my might, making the glass dig deeper into my skin.
I Turn over and drag myself further away from the metal mess.
I can’t breath. It hurts too much.
I try to stand, but my leg wont cooperate. Pain makes me blind and I wait breathing shallowly.
I drag myself, despite the pain to the other side of the car.
"Adam!" Still no answer
I realize Theres a a big sharp piece of glass that has cut through my cheek. I can feel it with my tongue. I count to three and pull it out. It is slippery with blood and I can’t help but scream.
I see a lump of a body. Mangled and broken on the street.
I gasp and drag myself over as fast and painful as possible.
He is breathing. I hear with each breath a painful wheez escape from his throat.
"No," I whisper. "Adam. Stop joking, this isn’t funny."
He doesn’t answer.
"Adam. Open your eyes." I demand. Tears slid down my face silently.
He opens his eyes.
I sigh in Relief.
"Okay, tell me were it hurts." I can tell his leg is in a freaky angle. His bone is jutting out of his arm and his face is covered in blood. His other arm is pined under his back also in an unnatural position. I try to fix it. He doesn’t scream. He yelps "Stop! Stop! No don’t!"
I cry. What do I do? I check my pocket. My phone in still there.
"I’m getting help Adam. It’ll be fine! Someone will come and help us." I remember our car has all star.
"Someone will be here soon." I pull his head into my lap. He groans. "We’ll be okay. We’ll go to the hospital and we’ll get better and we’ll go home and you’ll talk to dad like you promised and everything will be fine."
I hear sirens. "See," I say. "Do you hear! They’ll be here any second. I’ll stay with you no matter what. I’ll stay until you’re good."
He wheezes and cogh. I can hear the pain. I can hear how it hurts. I know how he hurts.
"Andre," He sais pain distorting his voice.
"Yea! Yea what is it Adam?" I say panicking. My tears trickle onto his face. I wipe his face with my shirt. I wanted to take it off and mop off the blood so he could open his eyes all the way, so I could see his face. But my arm is in such pain I can’t move anymore.
"I’m sorry."
"No Adam." I cry. "No you are the best and I love you so I’m not mad. No just wait and we’ll be fine."
"I love you too." He grunts and has a small spasm.
He stops moving. I can hear how hard it is for him to breath but it’s comforting to hear him breathe.
"The sirens are louder Adam!" I hug his head. "You’ll be fine soon."
"Ana, in my room, there is a tin under my matress. Keep it. Don’t show anyone."
"You can show me when you get home okay?"
He doesn’t answer.
"Okay!"
"Yea." He huffs softly.
His breathing spikes and I can’t bear to hear. "I love you." He sais.
The ambulances are here. I hear people rush to the car.
"Adam, there here."
Nothing.
I shake him.
"Adam!" There is no movement in my arm. No sound of labored breathing coming from my brother.
"Adam!" I cry. "AADDDAMMMM!!!!" I yell.
Nothing.
I cradle his head in my arm and cry.
People try to pick me up. I fight their arms off and hold onto him.
They stop touching me.
A man with dark hair bends down in front of me.
"He’s gone honey. Let him go."
I cry hysterical.
"No! He needs me!"
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Okay." He turn es to all the paramedics and police. "Get a stretcher." He sais.
Adam lay limp in my arms. I can’t accept it. It is impossible. I feel a sharp pain in arm . . .

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