(no subject)
A short story for English.
I guess the crash could have been my fault. I really wasn’t paying attention. I was talking on the phone with him and he really needed my help. And he was being distracting. So, maybe it wasn’t my fault. It might have been his. But then, he called because he wanted to know where the keys were and I had them with me.
So, whose fault is it that we have to give away the small, pink crib? Who is to blame for the lacy dresses that we had adored so much and could now never use? And the little shoes, too small for even my hand to fit in?
If we hadn’t been living together, he wouldn’t have needed the keys. He would always lose his, but he wouldn’t have needed these. But if we hadn’t had to get married then we wouldn’t have been living together in the first place. If my parents hadn’t found out, then we wouldn’t have gotten married. Maybe it’s my parents’ fault.
Yes, if my parents had never been told, we wouldn’t have had to paint the extra room pink and embellish it with flowers and butterflies. We would have left the small night light at the garage sale for another family, the rocking chair in the store window, looking cold and hard.
Butterfly kisses. That’s what it felt like the first time she moved. So soft, but impossible to ignore. It brought tears of delight to my eyes and down his cheeks. This little being we had created, albeit without meaning too.
To find the real cause of the crash, we have to go back further than my parents. We have to go back to prom night, that night. Because of that night, I had to get a job, if only for a while, and refuse Harvard’s college offer. I had to tell my parents about her and had to marry him. We had to move in together and each get keys, which he had to lose. Then, he had to call me while I was late for the doctor’s appointment and distract me from the road.
And then I had to crash. And then I had to lose her.
Lose her. That’s what they said. Like she was those damn keys.
Lost, lose, loser. That’s I am, I am a loser. I lost her, I lost him and I lost myself somewhere along this crazy, twisted road I’m on.
I guess I did lose her. I lost her among all the blood. There was so much blood. I was so scared, I cried and screamed. I couldn’t stop it. I wanted so badly to stop it.
I didn’t want her at first. She ruined all my plans. But I certainly didn’t want to lose her now, not now. She seemed so much a part of me. A part of who I was.
But the crash changed everything. I don’t know who is to blame for it. It could be my fault. It could be his. Maybe it’s the driver of the truck. Or my parents. It could even be hers. The appointment was for her. I was in that whole situation because of her.
So, maybe it was her fault. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s gone and he’s gone and I’m gone and nothing can bring us back.
>.< *cautiously* Opinions?
I guess the crash could have been my fault. I really wasn’t paying attention. I was talking on the phone with him and he really needed my help. And he was being distracting. So, maybe it wasn’t my fault. It might have been his. But then, he called because he wanted to know where the keys were and I had them with me.
So, whose fault is it that we have to give away the small, pink crib? Who is to blame for the lacy dresses that we had adored so much and could now never use? And the little shoes, too small for even my hand to fit in?
If we hadn’t been living together, he wouldn’t have needed the keys. He would always lose his, but he wouldn’t have needed these. But if we hadn’t had to get married then we wouldn’t have been living together in the first place. If my parents hadn’t found out, then we wouldn’t have gotten married. Maybe it’s my parents’ fault.
Yes, if my parents had never been told, we wouldn’t have had to paint the extra room pink and embellish it with flowers and butterflies. We would have left the small night light at the garage sale for another family, the rocking chair in the store window, looking cold and hard.
Butterfly kisses. That’s what it felt like the first time she moved. So soft, but impossible to ignore. It brought tears of delight to my eyes and down his cheeks. This little being we had created, albeit without meaning too.
To find the real cause of the crash, we have to go back further than my parents. We have to go back to prom night, that night. Because of that night, I had to get a job, if only for a while, and refuse Harvard’s college offer. I had to tell my parents about her and had to marry him. We had to move in together and each get keys, which he had to lose. Then, he had to call me while I was late for the doctor’s appointment and distract me from the road.
And then I had to crash. And then I had to lose her.
Lose her. That’s what they said. Like she was those damn keys.
Lost, lose, loser. That’s I am, I am a loser. I lost her, I lost him and I lost myself somewhere along this crazy, twisted road I’m on.
I guess I did lose her. I lost her among all the blood. There was so much blood. I was so scared, I cried and screamed. I couldn’t stop it. I wanted so badly to stop it.
I didn’t want her at first. She ruined all my plans. But I certainly didn’t want to lose her now, not now. She seemed so much a part of me. A part of who I was.
But the crash changed everything. I don’t know who is to blame for it. It could be my fault. It could be his. Maybe it’s the driver of the truck. Or my parents. It could even be hers. The appointment was for her. I was in that whole situation because of her.
So, maybe it was her fault. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s gone and he’s gone and I’m gone and nothing can bring us back.
>.< *cautiously* Opinions?