Ice FallsA Story by Lindsay A car crash told through the perspectives of three very different participants. The Crash I heard my cell phone begin to ring as I sat underneath a red light five blocks from my house. I stole a glance to the right and left, surveying my surroundings. There was no sign of any police cars, so I did something I absolutely never did. “Hello? Rick? I’ll be home in a minute, I promise! I have to go, I’m driving. I can’t wait to see your face when you see your birthday present!” I didn’t wait for his response. I flipped the phone closed and buried it deep in the bottom of my purse. A pang of guilt fluttered through my stomach as I tapped the gas and continued my journey down the brightly lit street. I turned down the radio and glanced around, taking in the pristine look of the snow-covered lawns and parked cars along the road. I made sure to stay below thirty miles per hour as I watched for patches of ice on the street or children running by with their sleds, hoping to have some fun before the snow melted. I knew that Rick had taken the kids out to the hill this afternoon. As it was, I couldn’t wait to get home to my family. I had a giant chocolate cake and what I considered to be the present of the century in my back seat.
I smiled to myself, allowing an excited giggle to escape my lips as I stopped at the final red light before the entrance to my neighborhood. I bent to turn down the radio, which was getting a bit too loud for my taste, but snapped to attention when I heard the blast of a thousand horns from all around me. My eyes bulged outward from my face as I turned my rapidly pulsing neck to see every direction at once. I heard a loud, shrill scream fill the air as my eyes finally locked on the source of the commotion, which was when I realized it wasn’t a scream at all. It was the screech of bleeding tires as a dark blue car slid, cutting through the air toward the space that I so happily occupied until approximately 5:18 PM. I remember catching a sudden glimpse of wild green eyes through the ice of the other windshield, which was the last thing that registered before the red of the overhead light consumed me. She never cleaned the ice off of her windshield, I though to myself, my last conscious thought, What kind of careless person drives like that?
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My numb fingers anxiously pressed the button for the walk sign attached to the frozen pole on my side of the street. I hugged my thermal jacket closer to me and began to jump up and down, an attempt at regaining feeling in my aching legs. Finally, the yellow stick figure illuminated from across the road, signaling that I could run across. I brushed the snow from my messy blond hair and took off at a runner’s pace. The red light glistened over the icy patches in the road as I ran across. Fortunately, I was only about ten feet across the road when I heard the horns begin to sound in protest to some unknown atrocity. It seemed as if someone was always beeping at someone else. Usually it was some pointless situation, which most likely did not warrant the stream of obscenities that would follow. This time, however, was much different.
The angry trill of the tires stopped me in my tracks and I was able to see the whole thing unfold. A dark blue sedan completely plowed through the warning of the red light with music blasting and ice chipping off in every direction. He must have been doing more than sixty miles per hour, that was until the halt and silence that followed the horrific collision. The woman in the white SUV never had a chance.
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Radio waves bombarded my ears and seemed to take over my every sense, competing with the emotions that flooded through my mind, manifesting themselves in the tears that filled my eyes. The drops of salty fluid spilled over onto my already crimson face, stinging the skin at the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t escape the pitiful flow of anxiety and self-loathing. I tried to divert my attention to something else, anything else. My waterlogged eyes were fixed on the road through the only small square of windshield that was not crusted with the gray-brown layer of ice. I shook my head violently, trying to clear it as a fresh set of sobs expelled from behind my swollen lips. It felt as though I would never feel whole again. I envisioned his face and wondered how I was ever going to escape the pain.
My vision, my mind, and my memory were clouded with angry sadness, not registering properly the meaning of the eerie red glow that washed over my body. It was only a split second later that I heard the horns begin to blare and the screech of the tires, which was my car’s way of responding, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m trying to stop, I promise.”
I suppose I should have felt fortunate that I was too numb to feel the pain at the time. I remember the crunch as my forehead connected with the space above the side window and the pressure of the car collapsing in on me as it finally came to a halt. I felt like a human sardine, hugged between the seat and the airbag. It was oddly comforting, like the hug that I had been yearning for. I considered lying there, never getting up again. That was, until I heard the screams coming from outside the shattered remains of the car window.
“She’s dead. Call the police, she’s dead,” I heard.
But I’m alive, I thought.
I must have thought aloud, because it was only a few seconds later that I saw the disgusted face of a blond haired stranger glaring down on me, spitting at me from behind his enormous thermal coat, “Next time remember that red means stop. You worthless b***h. You killed her.”
© 2009 LindsayAuthor's Note
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LindsayLaurel springs, NJAboutI love music, traveling, reading, writing, psychology, dancing, and photos. more..Writing
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