w0nderlust

Sam’s Perspective
 

It’s not that I couldn’t remember.

I remember turning between rows of cars, a constant zigzag between lanes.  It’s funny; I remember being taught the same speeches at different assemblies.  Some changed here and there, but the general message was clear. Don’t drink and drive.

But I was desperate to get out of that house. The party had been full of the clichés I have always tried to avoid.  But then again, I ended up falling into a different kind of stereotype that night.

I remember honking horns, profanity shot from cracked windows. All of which was directed at my car when it almost hit theirs.  It didn’t faze me.

It hit me now though, the alcohol out of my system. My judgment wasn’t clouded anymore. There was no longer a barrier between my thoughts and actions.
I think I liked it better when there was.

It’s ironic, actually, that I spent the night complaining about the drunken idiots that I was surrounded by. 

I remember thinking that they would end up hurting someone on the way home.  I figured the alcohol I was drinking would help me tune them out, appreciate the few friends I was surrounded by and finally let go.

Of course, I did let go. I let go too much. Drunk enough that I was sure I was perfectly fine to drive home.

I remember that I was having fun, windows down and radio on. I think I turned it up after I realized that people were yelling at me from out their windows.  I came to the realization that I had missed my exit too late. I thought it’d be a good idea to pull a 360 in the middle of the highway.

That’s when I met Ava, the hood of my car greeting hers.

Three seconds

All I could see was the headlights shining through the dark night; they were too close.

Two seconds

I heard the brakes screech, but the headlights just got closer.

One second

Shards of glass rained in my direction, and there was no time for a reaction.

…

I looked up; my vision blurred, and barely registered the flurry of movement. My senses couldn’t catch up with the pandemonium.  The sounds that should’ve been clear came later than the movement of lips of foreign faces. My vision once again went black.

...

As my senses awakened, all I knew for sure was that I recognized the siren of an ambulance. It wasn’t until I felt a jerk to the right that I realized I must have been inside of one. I could barely see the hazy faces of what have been paramedics. I wasn’t conscious long enough to let my eyes focus on anything else.

…

This time my sense of smell is what hit me first. I smelt bleach and rubber gloves. Next, I heard the beeping of a heart monitor, and when I opened my eyes I immediately squinted because of the too bright fluorescent lights. I’ve always hated hospitals.