Out.

She could feel her heart beating, which shouldn’t come as a surprise as this normally meant that you were alive; yet she could feel it in her feet, in her head, as she gripped onto the skin on her elbow she could feel it in her fingertips. She didn’t want to be here, it looked like no one wanted to be here. This was the place people came to die, not watch anxiously as you wonder how you’ll ever live again after what you see before your eyes.

The lights flashed before her eyes, blue to red, red to green, white again. Everything would eventually have to be white she thought, clean, sterile. Would she ever feel clean or normal again? She looked at her hand, there was blood on it. Was it hers? She hopes so, she feared a Lady Macbeth reaction if it was not hers, she felt unclean.

Out damned spot.

Out.

She looked down at her phone, habitually, she had no texts, why would she? Everyone who would think to text her is here. She thinks back to earlier that night its hazy, she asked her to call her to make sure she got home alright, she wanted her sober and at home. Safe.

That wasn’t the case. More blue lights flashed, the carnage in front of her caused the pit of her stomach to turn to stone, she almost felt nothing. Worse than nothing, numbness, she could feel the pins and needles of her insides turning to stone slowly, unmoving. I feel like I’ll be in a constant state of worry and panic.

The first sight was the yellow car, the small Beatle car that she had loved since she was fifteen; when the dream for a car became the dream for that car. She was so jealous when Becky had gotten it first and of course she couldn’t copy it afterwards. Not that she even could drive. That’s why she was here. The yellow small, Beatle car was turned over, on its’s head like a clown’s car the wheels still slowly moving back and forth.

The second sight was much more gruesome, the once blue ford focus was now a dark grey, the paint had scraped off one side, half of it on the ground one long streak along the ground the dirt of the tarmac was evident, gravel and stones stuck to the doors and windows. This car looked injured, was that possible for a car to look like it had been hurt? This personal attack on the appearance of the car was something that disgusted her, how dare they damage how this car looks wasn’t it enough for the inside of the car to be something that no eyes could comprehend, should want to bear witness to?

The life of her best friend was slipping away in the pretty yellow car, in the now ugly car there were the lives of three of her other friends. They had dropped her home and then a girl she didn’t know as well in the other car, Cath now stood beside her.

Somehow one car had slipped on the ice �" black ice, always untrusting and unseen always waiting for the unexpected and making it someone’s worse nightmare.

I guess it was fitting that the outside of the focus was now tattered and in disarray, it had hit the pretty car, it had hit the dream. The best part of my day.

Her Mother was now out of her house, woken from the commotion I’m sure she thought. She heard a gasp and a sob and a distant voice saying to call Suzie and Dean. The words meant nothing to her though, she watched as the men in their uniforms, who seen this everyday tried to salvage any life from the vehicles, at the end of the day they would go home, hang their hats and move on tomorrow. I felt like I’d never move again. Let alone on to somewhere else.

She heard a splutter, someone was choking inside the car. The splutter of a life slowly slipping away. They were fearful now of the dream exploding, so was she.

It had happened quickly, the yellow car had weak tyres they said, of course she didn’t know then, fifteen minutes ago when she got out of the car, or maybe it had been fifteen hours, she wasn’t sure. She stepped out of the pretty car, smiled and said something sarcastic, slamming the door waving to the others in the other car.

The pretty car had taken the turn to slowly back its way back down the street and she had heard the moment she lost control, her car made a sharp noise saying something had gone wrong. A warning message just not in enough time. The Beatle had spun madly out of control until it had hit the car that had slowly turned it’s break off as they watched with horror of the scene, ready to turn their car also, the ford had lost its focus and had completely turned on its side and the yellow pushed the colour out of its side as it slid down the icy hill on which she lived.

It had simultaneously happened in slow motion and in fast forward all at once. She heard the screams from inside the car. She could also still here the blast of Somebody to Love, blaring from the yellow car.

When the yellow car stopped spinning, made possible by the fact that it had hit a wall at a high speed that the only sound she could hear was the crack of the wall against the heavy metal frame. The wall had a small crack now, where it had been strong and sturdy this yellow flower car had taken a piece of it with it in its descent.

 The yellow car was dying while the now grey car was slowly slipping further down the hill. It took seven men to get three people from the once blue car. Everything went red for a moment, she heard a ‘Clear’ and a ‘Pulse’ and a ‘MORE’ and a ‘STOP’ and several gurgled whimpers, pleas. She stood frozen as the scene of horror flashed through her vision. She kept pinching her elbow, eventually she would wake from this nightmare. She pinched harder this time. Someone was behind her, her mother was there, she shivered and stepped away. She now realised some of the gurgled whimpers and prayers had been slipping from her mouth.

The three in blue were now in the yellow ambulances, one sitting up, one on a stretcher the other a slab. She wasn’t even sure who was who anymore. Her eyes now glued to the yellow car.

The car she compared to a sunflower when she was fifteen, her sunflower car. The sunflower car was now red inside. The life of the flower now smeared throughout, nothing living or breathing. Nothing to see or hear, the last spasm of breath was taken, she seen the last moment it shined moments before the yellow, bright car became dirty and smeared and unclean.

Nothing was stable anymore, the ground shook under her feet, they announced her dead. The car and its driver. They said the roads were treacherous. She looked at her hand, more blood on her fingers, who’s blood was that? The driver was dead. The driver. They hadn’t identified them yet; they had been busy.

The driver.

“Let’s see you drive your favourite car, S.” I had giggled in excitement, she warned me of the roads, she wanted me to give it a go down the hill, she wanted to turn it first. That was when it had happened. She had fallen onto the ground as she watched the scene.

There were no more clean, pure moments, there were no more unhazardous thoughts. There would only be this for her now, she knew that. This was what would define her life, this was what defined theirs, it was only right that this was also her last testament to the world, this was when she watched everyone she had ever chosen to let in slowly become the people who would never be allowed out. Never allowed more. Her hands wrung in front of her stomach, she would never outlive this night. She had never prayed before now, but her silent pleas for this night to be erased were echoing throughout her head.

OUT.

OUT.

OUT. 

Reviews

[Soph]

This is so good! The events get a bit confusing around the middle but I don't think you could top the actual writing :)