An Up-Side-Down Town

Lights flash,

Sirens blare.

My head swims,

But I really don’t care…

My eye sight is blurred as I came too. I let out a groan and look around. I think I’m up-side-down…or maybe sideways…backwards? No I’m back-ways. My life is backwards and I’m trapped in an up-side-down car. How f-ed up can you get?!

I look around and attempt to loosen my belt. Struggling for my life, I find the belt buckle and begin to tug. I stop suddenly when I feel something sharp pierce the flesh of my palm. Flinching and gasping, I examine the wound: crimson red blood seeps out of the cut and falls like rain to the glass covered pavement below my head. Each drop signifies a part of me- apart of my life, being drained slowly from my body. Draining me of blood and life. My head swims yet again at the thought and I used my non- bloodied hand to touch a section of my scalp that is throbbing from pain. My dark hair is being dyed an ugly crimson. I can feel the blood seeping slowly through the crack in the back of my skull.

The glass that surrounds my crushed car has embedded itself in my broken and battered body; every fiber of my being has been tainted by the shrapnel of my crushed convertible. The pavement below my head is covered in glass, blood, and the scrap metal that used to be my car. I look out of the car and realize that the ‘lights’ I thought I saw earlier where probably caused by the MAJOR concussion I’m convinced I have. Not to mention the fact that the car that hit me has its head lights streaming directly into my car. The sound of sirens I thought I heard was actually the sound of tires screeching and the metal frame of my car being ripped to shreds. So here I am in an up-side-down world in an up-side-down car, wishing now more than ever that I could escape. And that’s EXACTLY what I’ll do…

Reaching into my pants pocket and wincing from the pain, I retrieve the switch blade I stole from Him. I knew that He would only abuse it and its sharp, metallic power, so I figured I would put it to some practical use instead of using it the way He does. I shove the thought out of my head and begin to saw through the thick mesh of my seat belt, plunging the knife through the fabric and trying my best to avoid slicing myself. As I saw through the belt, I think of how the damn thing barely saved my life. Suddenly, the belt gives weigh under my 120 pound, 17 year old body and I hit the deck full force. Struggling with all my might to resist puking after the sudden jolt of pain that flares through my body, I recover and begin to shimmy out from under the wreckage that used to be my car. I make it half way before my body succumbs to exhaustion and gravity pins me to the ground. With a moan and a grunt my body finally gives in to the urge to throw up and I cover myself in vomit. Oh brilliant!

Once I have gathered myself and feel ready, I try to ignore the pain and push forward, yet again. Success! My second chance at freedom proves to be enough and I wiggle out from under my 2008 red VW convertible. I lie next to the car and think of how I will always equate cars with the carnage and scrap medal I see before me.  Shuddering, I look around and take in my surroundings. The car that hit me, a 2002 GM Truck, looks like an accordion. The woman inside is unconscious, but alive. THANK GOD! There’s a beer can next to her open hand… Oh great, lady. What were you doing out at three in the morning driving drunk?!?! I scowl at the unconscious woman as I listen to her ONSTAR system talking to her. HA! Good luck with that.

            I gasp and clutch the hole in my side. The adrenaline that was once pumping through my system is fading, along with my strength and ability to stay conscious. And as the adrenaline dicipates, so does my tolerance for pain. Every injury I have sustained is making its presence known. I look down at my body: battered and bloody. But I cannot just sit here and feel sorry for myself. I’ve got to get out of here. I slowly gather myself together and prepare for the walk ahead to the woods. I must somehow find the strength and courage to stumble away from the gore-fest that launched my car 20 feet from the initial impact. I suppose I’m partially to blame for the accident but the drunk blonde bimbo, in my mind, is to blame because she also ran a stop light…as a matter of fact, she ran two before hitting me!

            Now it is almost four in the morning and I begin to pray that no one witnessed this destructive scene. Now that it is getting closer to five thirty I realize that people who go to work at six would be up by now. Anyone could easily stumble upon this disaster. This disaster: which could have been easily avoided if I was not so emotional and if the Drunken Daredevil had kept her drunken, hillbilly a** at home…The ONSTAR system breaks my concentration while it babbles on and begs for a response. Then I hear the dreaded line, “Help is on the way…” OH s**t-take mushrooms… I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!

            I direct my brain to direct my legs to move it and get my butt to the woods before anyone finds me. I’m only able to take one step before I crumble to the ground and cry out in agony. My leg: broken. ‘Great.’ I muster up all the courage and strength I can and try again. After several attempts I finally make it to the edge of the woods�"TEN freaking steps�"and fall into the soft ground, completely exhausted. Gasping from the pain and shock of how hard those ten steps turned out to be, I lie in the grass and sob quietly. Get up, get up, GET UP! I fill my lungs with the cool crisp morning air and rise to my feet. Using the tree’s to steady myself, I plunge into the underbrush and force myself to keep moving, crying the entire time from the pain in my shattered leg. I have to keep moving. This is MY time. This is my escape!

            A figure steps out of the underbrush and catches me just as a protruding rock causes me to trip. His eyes are a piercing blue that stuns me and takes my breath away. His hair is a silky and pure jet black color that shimmers in the dawn, unlike my dyed black hair that is beginning to fade at the roots. He’s tall-Very tall! At least five foot ten inches and his skin is pale and pure like a flawless slab of alabaster. God, he’s gorgeous! I shake my head and blink a few times in order to break my train of thought, ending the trance I have immersed myself in. This tactic works a little bit too well, however, because the pain from moving my neck is so extreme it causes me to black out.

                                   ***

            When I come too, I’m in the mystery man’s arms. He notices me stirring but continues to walk with me cradled in his arms protectively as he leads us deeper and deeper into the woods. I feel… safe. Safe and protected- and the saddest part about these feelings is that I feel more comfortable with this stranger than I have ever felt with my family that I have known since birth. But even weirder than that… I feel as if I can trust this handsome stranger. And, oddly enough, I do trust him. He witnessed the destruction and carnage. He saw the whole scene and he doesn’t even have to say it. I can tell. In can see it in those bright blue eyes that glimmer in the light of daybreak. As he carries me away from the sirens, and the blood and gore I have left behind, I have an epiphany of sorts. I realize that this is no longer my time. Nor is it my escape. It’s not even my life anymore. This is just the beginning…My beginning.