Not Cliché

5) Accidents and Panic Attacks

We had been driving for a short time, when, out of no where, a horn beeped frantically. A family van was rushing head on towards us. Alesso swerved the car shouting out in multiple languages, what I assumed to be cuss words, I closed my eyes, hoping my death would be fast and painless.

The impact was mainly on the right side tail of the truck. On Sandra's side. The breath was knocked out of me from the blow, my body jerked forward and slammed on the seat. I think I might've had bruises on my bum, back, and chest.

I remembered I wasn't the only one in the car. I looked at both Sandra and Alesso. Alesso seemed to have knocked his head against the window, rendering him unconcious. He didn't look too bad.

But what stopped my blood cold, then made it boil with anxiety was the picture of Sandra. Her stomach was bleeding profusely, her breathing with was weak and shallow and her skin was deathly pale, even more so than her usual light skin. Her cheeks had lost the rosy glow and her hair was also matted with drying blood, she was whimpering and groaning in pain.

I started screaming, hoping someone could hear me. I was all alone. Not sure what the correct medical procedure was, I shook Alesso, trying to get him to wake up. I heard somewhere that if you sleep with a concussion you'd get more sleep than you bargained for.

"Where's your phone?!" I practically yelled at the presently regaining consciousness Alesso. Too impatient for him to register my words I searched through his pockets and found his phone, quickly dialing 911.

Alesso opened the door and stumbled out of his beat up truck. I scrambled after him, shaking slightly. I ran to the other side of the pick up to try to see if I could help Sandra while the EMS could come. I took off my shirt, not caring about appropriateness, balling it and used my handy Swiss Army knife to cut through the bloodied fabric of Sandra's shirt.

Removing it I saw what was hidden by the wet fabric. It looked way worse than what I originally thought it'd look like. I stubbornly held back my tears and my up coming panic attack, drenching my shirt in sea water, that I got from the still near by ocean. I knew salt was supposed to stop infection, but I also knew it hurt like a bitch.

I murmured quietly to Sandra, "hey girl, hang in with me here, porfis. Esto va a doler mucho, but it's gonna be okay. Ready? 1, 2, 3!" I quickly put the soaking shirt on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

She whimpered in weak protest and seemed to black out from the pain. Not having the heart to slap her awake I left her like that, hoping she didn't go sleeping with the Angels, literally.

I looked at the other car. It seemed as if there were kids in there. Alesso had gone to check if they were okay. It seemed everyone was scathed but weren't as grave as Sandra. I couldn't hold back my panic attack, suddenly I started violently shaking, my knees crumpling underneath me. I started whimpering and crying, rolling on the ground. Alesso came into view, crouching down next to me.

I couldn't get enough air. My lungs were inflating and deflating but no air was coming inside.

"Hey, hey, shh, shh, it'll be okay," then in a deep, husky, but sweet voice started singing a lullaby.

"A la nanita nana, nanita nana, nanita ea,
mi Nena tiene sueño, bendita sea, bendita sea.

Fuentecilla que corres clara y sonora
ruiseñor que en la selva cantando lloras
calla mientras la cuna se balancea
a la nanita nana, nanita ea

A la nanita nana, nanita nana...

Manojito de rosas y de alelíes
¿qué es lo que estás soñando que te sonríes?
cuales son tus sueños, dilo alma mía
más, ¿qué es lo que murmuras?
Eucaristía