A Lily of the Valley

A Story by RileyD

A short story. Just a bit of a warning, those weak of stomach should probably turn away now. I don't find the gruesome part very gruesome, but some might, so be warned.

I was 16 when my boyfriend, Lucus, was killed by a drunk driver.

He was 17, and had just moved into the neighborhood from the other side of town. He was the guy any girl could ever want - He played football, yet he was kind, a little shy, and one of the smartest people I had ever met. Oh, did I mention he was gorgeous?

Sorry. Focus, Amelia, focus.

Anyway, it was winter when it happened. We were walking home from the movies, we had just seen a crappy girl movie that neither of us had enjoyed. We were constantly laughing and bashing it as we walked home (it was around 40 degrees, the first time it had gotten above freezing in a month). It was still slick out though, and so every time we crossed the crosswalk we would slip. He had on boots, so he was able to guide me across so I wouldn't slip. It had been a fun evening, despite the horrible film.

When we got to the last street till we reached mine, Lucus decided to show off, just as all teenage guys would for their girlfriends. He quickly and effectively removed my arm from his, and begin to spring towards the crosswalk. I shouted after him to stop being stupid and that there was a car 90 degrees to his left and it looked like it was going straight, but I am not sure he heard me. Although vehicles have to wait for pedestrians crossing on crosswalks, I was always on the "better-safe-than-sorry" side and didn't take the chance of being turned into bird food. Lucus, despite my pleas to stop, felt brave enough to try to skid through the crosswalk, but he appeared as if he was trying to leave the driver plenty of time to miss him or slow down.

Then, Lucus's fatal mistake was made. He leaned too far back, and fell flat. The driver didn't veer out of the way, nor did he try to slow down or stop. He drove ahead as if nothing had happened, and a blood-curdling scream and crunch from under the truck. The driver just continued on like nothing had happened.

Lucus was lying in the middle of the road, dead. The truck had run over his head and flattened it. If it had been a picture, I would have vomited. Screaming at the top of my lung, I fell to the the ground and crawled backward, unable to believe what had just happened. People came out of their houses to figure out what the hell was going on, and immediately withdrew to call the police and the ambulance. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, a middle aged woman came out and carried me to her porch, where she had blankets and crackers out. I remember sitting, but everything else seemed a haze, and I passed out when they came to remove his body from the street. They literally had to carve his head off of the asphalt.

~#%#~

I am not sure how many hours I was out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to several machines and had an oxygen mask plastered to my face. Many tubes were sticking out of me, and I was alone.

At first, I figured I was dead. I had had a heart attack and died right there on the porch of the middle aged lady. Suddenly, I realized that it couldn't be true, and that is when my parents inched in. Their faces lightened and they smiled and were gleeful I was awake, but soon they returned to the sullenness that seemed to hang over the room. They rubbed my head and whispered little nothing into my ear; they tried to sooth me and comfort me as best as they could, but it was useless. I was a mere shell of my former, content self.

The worst part was going back to school a few weeks later. Peers laughed and jeered at me, and friends shunned and spat at me. Everyone kept saying things like "It was your fault for letting him run" and "If he wasn't so stupid he wouldn't have done that", none of which was true of course. I fell into a very deep depression that winter, and no one seemed to be able to pull me out.

That spring, I was walking in the timber behind my house, when I came across the meadow i used to play in all the time when I was little. I sighed and shrugged and began to walk away when something white caught my attention. It was barely noticeable, but it drew me closer, toward the center of the meadow. I knelt down to look closer, and gently reached my hand out to touch the plant. It was a Lily of the Valley. I carefully touched the tiny bell-like flowers and inhaled the aroma deeply, allowing it to fill me and lift me. I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I felt hope, and I felt the strength to continue living. It was strength that I had been missing ever since Lucus had died.

It took me a long time till I was able to tell people about Lucus and the dark months afterwards. I relied on close relatives for support, and I was very fragile and weak. I began to get stronger, though, and made new, real friends. I began to feel happy again. I eventually found a new boyfriend, who is now my beloved husband. We are happily married, and have been for 25 years, and have beautiful children and grandchildren.

No matter how hopeless living seems, there is always a rainbow at the end of the storm. Some storms are longer than others. Never lose sight of the will to love, and always have hope and faith.