(no subject)
Prompt 030 for nexus100.
It plays every night behind his eyes. The crash, the shattering cacophony of metal screeching against metal and shattering glass. He feels it, too, the moment of white-hot pain that separated him from his body. Sometimes he thinks he sees it, his body, draped over the steering wheel of the car he'd worked so hard to buy (the thought that was clearest, so incongruous: but the paint job was new!), broken and bleeding, barely even human.
He hardly ever dreams about the part after, the white light, the peace. The soothing, comforting, warming... he'd been surprised when he'd come out of it, emotions flooding back like a tidal wave of fear, guilt, and pain.
And then he remembers what came after. And on her worst days, he wishes that he could die again.
It plays every night behind his eyes. The crash, the shattering cacophony of metal screeching against metal and shattering glass. He feels it, too, the moment of white-hot pain that separated him from his body. Sometimes he thinks he sees it, his body, draped over the steering wheel of the car he'd worked so hard to buy (the thought that was clearest, so incongruous: but the paint job was new!), broken and bleeding, barely even human.
He hardly ever dreams about the part after, the white light, the peace. The soothing, comforting, warming... he'd been surprised when he'd come out of it, emotions flooding back like a tidal wave of fear, guilt, and pain.
And then he remembers what came after. And on her worst days, he wishes that he could die again.