I saw everything. I watched but couldn’t say anything to stop it. I tried over and over to yell, scream, anything; anything to prevent us from getting into that car. I watched helplessly as you opened the door for me and waited until I had put my seat belt on, to close it. You pulled the driver’s door out of my hands, and closed it; sealing us inside. I couldn’t hold it. I couldn’t prevent us from going. The car pulls away from the curb and drives away, I have no choice but to follow, a mere ghost in the past.
I know the winding road is approaching and I can feel myself being pulled into the car, compelled by the invisible hands of destiny. I cry out, pleading to be exempt from reliving this. Nothing stops me from being thrust into my own body; to feel what I felt, see what I saw.
I briefly look out the window; the headlights only illuminate the road enough to see the sharp cliff, merely three feet from the road. You say something and I look over. It’s painful to see you looking so handsome in your suit jacket. You say something that sets us off laughing, the radios playing.
We don’t know what’s coming, but I do.
Once again, you look over and take my hand. Quickly, I can feel my smile fade and panic set in. We’re yelling, myself and I. You haven’t noticed what I have yet, haven’t seen what I have. When you do, I can see it on your face; the deer that appeared out of nowhere. It jumps into the road and stands there, watching, waiting. Its eyes reflect our rapidly approaching headlights. I feel coldness as you jerk your hand from my grasp and grab the wheel, but we both know it’s too late. It’s too late to do anything but slam on the breaks.
I can feel time begin to slow. I feel each beat of my heart again, bu-bump, bu-bump. A car rounds the bend blocking us from any escape, sealing our fate. The deer rushes to meet us like a freight train, crashing through the windshield. Shards of glass are floating around us, suspended like little iridescent crystals. Time resumes its break neck speed.
The car’s out of control and it slams into something, sending dirt in through the shattered windshield. Suddenly we’re weightless and I can feel the car slowly turning over. Time doesn’t exist here. I can feel myself screaming, but the me I am now is calm, screaming won’t matter soon.
We slam into the ground and I can briefly hear metal screeching before gravity catches up and my knees slam into my face. It’s goes dark. I can breathe again. I can feel the deep darkness in this other me, the scared me. I don’t know what’s going on around me, that’s not a part of my world; all I feel is darkness. All I see is darkness.
I know the worst isn’t over and I can feel myself tensing. I try to calm myself and tell me that it’ll be over soon. I want to cry but I can’t, she can’t. The me that’s unconscious.
I can feel myself open my eyes. I can see bright light and I can hear a strange beeping sound, oddly enough, it reminds me of my heart beat. Shallow and slow. Bu-bump-beep. Bu-bump-beep. The realization is coming soon; I can feel my mind clearing itself of fog, remembering the events of the night; remembering, and the screaming starts. Doctors’ rush in, calming me, shushing me, telling me it’ll be ok. I want to know where he is; I want to know if he’s ok. The me then doesn’t know yet, she doesn’t notice the looks between the doctor and nurse. I can see the look clearly now, now that I’m not scared. Now that I know what happens. The doctor and nurse excuse themselves after exchanging a few words. I’m alone now, weeping and confused. The door to the room opens and my mom walks in, remnants of mascara on her face telling the truth of her tears.
She sits on the edge of my bed and takes my hand, careful of the IV. She’s always careful, my mom. I know what’s coming and I try to hide myself as far away as possible; shutting myself away but I hear anyway. She tells me about my baby. How they had to perform an emergency C-section. He would live. For now. They were monitoring him, watching for any signs of abnormality. Tears are falling. I could feel them again, as well as relief. She quiets and I know what’s coming, the relief is replaced by fear.
I hear his story; the story of how he turned the car right before the impact so his side would hit first; of how when the dust had settled, he had refused the help of the stranger in the car, told them to get me out first. He asked about me the entire way to the hospital, he wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. To make sure I had the care first. I felt my mom’s hesitation, felt her tears as they fell on my hand.
Then she told me. She told me the truth. He was so badly injured. Surgery was begun to remove the shards of glass piercing his body. It didn’t matter. He had already lost too much blood. I felt myself fall still. Darkness engulfed me again. Endless pain and anguish rushed over me. I tried to stop it. I tried to lock it away but it was no use. This pain was endless; I would always feel this pain.
I hear sounds and I know the end is near. I wake up and the truth of the night hits me. I’m screaming again, screaming so loud that the me now can’t hear anything. Suddenly I see me; I see me in a hospital bed screaming away the hurt. The night rushes past me reliving the events of the evening in reverse. I’m pulled away and thrust into the now body. The body lying in our bed, surrounded by emptiness. Only it’s not me who’s screaming this time, it’s our baby; the miracle born of a tragedy.
I have this nightmare regularly. I can count on it like I can count on the rise of the sun. I know he’s still here, watching over us. Making sure we’re taken care of. Every time I enter the memories of that night I can feel a presence in the room. Making sure I’m not afraid, reassuring me.
The nightmare will come again. When I remember, remember the lost times.I’m not afraid. I know, then, he’ll be back.
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