Saturday, October 30, 2010

I woke up in what seemed like a different universe. The florescent lights flickered above my head, the unfamiliar bed creaked under my weight as I tried to register my surroundings, and the intoxicating smell of medicine and fluids in the stale air rushed into my nose. The only question that came to mind was, “where am I?” The flimsy white hospital blankets wrapped tightly around me was a chain holding me down and every single bone in my body was either numb or was in extreme pain. Focusing as hard as I could, I tried to rake through my brain for answers, but all I remembered was the piercing sound of a driver who honked while I was behind the wheel and the red and blue lights that were flashing so rapidly it was enough to make someone have a seizure. I was not even sure if that white hospital gown was what had been on me when I left the house. Suddenly I noticed that I was not alone. I realized that my mom was sitting in the small chair by the window crying.
“Mom” I whispered and she slowly lifted her head.
“Honey?” She quickly jumped out of her chair as if it were covered in scorpions, anxiously waiting to crawl all over her pale skin.
“Where am I?”
“Hon., your in the hospital” as soon as the words came out of her mouth a tears slowly rolled down her cheek leaving behind a wet path.
“What?!” As she slowly turned to face the window again I tried to sit up but failed miserably when the tubes attached to me yanked me back.
“Mom tell right now. Why am I here?” I demanded when the suspense got to me.
After a few more tears and seconds, she looked me straight in the eyes
“You were driving Erika and Jack home after the party and you were under the influence. You crashed into another driver and you were the only one who… survived.”


On August second I killed four people, two of my best friends, an innocent individual who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the person who lived inside of me.

1 comment:

  1. I really like this especially the ending. It was a very well used metaphor.

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