Crash
So that's what it's like to have nothing. That's what it's like to lose control of your emotions, to lose control of your body and your mind and to have absolutely nothing at all. It's sort of refreshing, in a way. Maybe refreshing isn't the word. I don't know what the word is though, so I guess that's the one I'll use. I can't really think right now. My head is so full of everything right now. And yet, nothing. I can't think. I just need to take a break. Sort things out.
Greg saves the document and shuts his laptop. He leans back slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He rubs his temples, hoping to slow the throbbing pulse that's thundering through his head. A glance at the clock shows it's past midnight. Greg sighs deeply and stands, dragging his feet as he turns off the light in his room and climbs into his bunk bed. He's exhausted, every ounce of energy drained by the events of the day. He's not sure what it all means, and how it will affect him, but he knows he's not okay. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and rolls over, and in a few minutes he's asleep.
***
Claire slams on the brakes as the van careens towards her. It's going too fast, and she knows it's going to hit her. She tries to move, to get out of the way, but it's too late. She has nowhere to go, and in her little sedan, she doesn't stand a chance as the headlights glare in her eyes, then blink out of sight.
It's a week before Claire wakes up. Her first thought is that she's dead. She knows she must be, because she can't feel any pain. The bright light shining in her eyes blinds her for a moment, and she chokes for a moment as her mind recalls the screech of tires and the crunch of metal. She tries to look around, to see where she is and what she is, but she can't move her head. She can only listen to the beep of the heart monitor and the whisper of the voice that calls her to the past.
"I want it mommy! I want it!", the little girl said, tugging on her mother's skirt. The girl's mother sighed and fiddled with her curly red hair.
"I know you want it, but Mommy already said that you can't have one."
"But Kelly has one! Kelly's mommy bought it for her."
The four-year-old yanked on her mother's skirt again, leaving graham cracker crumbs on the black fabric. Her mother brushed them off anxiously and sighed again, then took her daughter's hand, leading her towards the doors. The girl began to cry as they headed towards the parking lot, her face turning red and wet with tears. Her mother ignored her, reaching into her purse and taking out her cell phone. She flipped it open, then snapped it shut, annoyed that he still hadn't called. He never called though, and she didn't know why she still waited for him. She had been waiting for weeks now - no, months. But for some reason, she couldn't let him go.
"Mommy? Mommy, I wanna go home," the little girl whined, hanging on her mother's purse. Her mother snapped out of her trance and smiled down at her daughter. It was a fake smile, though, and they both knew it.
Greg saves the document and shuts his laptop. He leans back slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He rubs his temples, hoping to slow the throbbing pulse that's thundering through his head. A glance at the clock shows it's past midnight. Greg sighs deeply and stands, dragging his feet as he turns off the light in his room and climbs into his bunk bed. He's exhausted, every ounce of energy drained by the events of the day. He's not sure what it all means, and how it will affect him, but he knows he's not okay. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and rolls over, and in a few minutes he's asleep.
***
Claire slams on the brakes as the van careens towards her. It's going too fast, and she knows it's going to hit her. She tries to move, to get out of the way, but it's too late. She has nowhere to go, and in her little sedan, she doesn't stand a chance as the headlights glare in her eyes, then blink out of sight.
It's a week before Claire wakes up. Her first thought is that she's dead. She knows she must be, because she can't feel any pain. The bright light shining in her eyes blinds her for a moment, and she chokes for a moment as her mind recalls the screech of tires and the crunch of metal. She tries to look around, to see where she is and what she is, but she can't move her head. She can only listen to the beep of the heart monitor and the whisper of the voice that calls her to the past.
"I want it mommy! I want it!", the little girl said, tugging on her mother's skirt. The girl's mother sighed and fiddled with her curly red hair.
"I know you want it, but Mommy already said that you can't have one."
"But Kelly has one! Kelly's mommy bought it for her."
The four-year-old yanked on her mother's skirt again, leaving graham cracker crumbs on the black fabric. Her mother brushed them off anxiously and sighed again, then took her daughter's hand, leading her towards the doors. The girl began to cry as they headed towards the parking lot, her face turning red and wet with tears. Her mother ignored her, reaching into her purse and taking out her cell phone. She flipped it open, then snapped it shut, annoyed that he still hadn't called. He never called though, and she didn't know why she still waited for him. She had been waiting for weeks now - no, months. But for some reason, she couldn't let him go.
"Mommy? Mommy, I wanna go home," the little girl whined, hanging on her mother's purse. Her mother snapped out of her trance and smiled down at her daughter. It was a fake smile, though, and they both knew it.