Short story;

A friend

A/n
This is a short story based off of a writing prompt I saw. I usually don't really have motivation to finish a story, but since this is a short story, it shouldn't be hard. Hopefully🙄

Summer evening, I am sitting on a bench in the park. The sun is setting and I take my phone out of my pocket. My best friend has messaged me;

LMAO no you didn't

-I had told her about how I slapped someone across the face after being transphobic.-

Yeah no I did

She responds;

Welp, wait for me in hell✌🏻

- It was a mommy's child, his mom was absolutely a Karen;-

No worries, I will

Before I pocketed my phone again, I put my music on and put my earphones in.

Take me to church,
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies,
I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife,

I jam to the music, and take my phone out my pocket to put the music a bit harder.

As I fumble with my ring, I see a woman and her baby approach the street in front of me. Unconsciously, I take the tiny string that is attached to my phone and pull it through my ring to make a knot in it. It is now attached to my phone.

The woman and her baby have now reached the street. The baby had started crying. I turned the music louder, this is why I don't want kids, I think.

I'm now at the edge of the road, the woman in the middle of it. I look to my left and then to my right. I open my eyes further and instinctively start running, without looking. I rip my earphones out and throw my phone behind me. As soon as I do that, I realise how stupid that was, but I had to continue.

A white car, no idea what brand, not that I care, is rushing towards the woman and her baby. She's distracted by her crying baby.

The car, at which I'm looking at, either doesn't seem to notice the woman, or-

As the car is nearing, I slowly get to see whoever is inside of it. It is a young man, maybe around the age of 19, 20. He doesn't seem to have control over the steering wheel, and is looking down at his feet while, repeatedly, stamping on -what I assume- the breaks.

As fast as my legs can carry me, I run harder and harder and reach the woman. The car is now almost next to us, but we have reached the end of the street. I push the woman, she screams.

"LOOK OUT," I hear a voice, but it's too late.

The woman falls and the pushcart in which the baby lays, rolls onto the sidewalk and the woman gets there too. I'm behind them and the last thing I hear is a rushing sound of a car and a hard, thump.

*_*

I open my eyes in shock and shot glances around ... wherever I am ... through my blurry vision. After I blinked a few times, I recognize it as our living room.

I'm standing in the doorway, behind me is our hallway, in front of me is our couch, and in front of that a table. On my right is a closet in which I-don't-know-a-lot-of-shit is, and on my left a rack on which a lot of childhood photos are to be found.