Spinning.

Screaming.

Everything’s a blur.

Finally decide to try turning the steering wheel.

Impact.

Pushed around in the driver’s seat.

Airbag.

Glass breaking.

Car finally stopped.

Still alive.

Start the car, get out of the lanes.

Gas pedal.

Nothing.

Gas pedal.

Nothing.

Should I get out?

Impact.

Pushed around again.

Are you okay?

Look down.

Blood.

Car that hit you.

Driver.

Grab phone.

Dial 911.

I got in a car accident.

Do you need an ambulance?

Yes.

Where are you?

Pause.  Can’t think.  680.

North or South?

Can’t think.  Visualize Google Maps.  South?

Other driver walks away.  

Follow to the shoulder.

Look at blood.

Piece of flesh hanging from finger.

I should hold it to stop the bleeding.

Don’t, there might be glass.

Stranger tells you to sit down.

Listen.

Can’t sit still.  Don’t know what to do.

EMT.

What year is it?

Can’t think.  2011? No.  2012.

No, officer, I was not drinking tonight.

No, officer, not at all.

I don’t remember what happened.

No, I did not lose consciousness.

You could’ve died.

You got lucky.

You could’ve died. 

Is this karma?

Sometimes, I feel like I’m being played.  I feel like you’re feeding me lines because they sound good to say.  Maybe it’s my fault for pushing you away, because I wouldn’t have been able to guarantee I’d stay.  And I know it’s selfish, how much I want you to be mine when I can’t give myself to you the way I gave my heart last time.  But it hurts to read about you and the way she makes you feel, ‘cause it makes the way you feel for me seem like it isn’t real.