If I Didn't Know Better

Chapter 1

The loud winds slammed the screen door shut behind me as I fought through the hell storm of rain pouring down from the dark Earth. The hood on top of my head failed to serve its purpose, despite that I was already drenched head to toe before reaching my car at the end of my parents' ridiculously long gravel driveway.

"Carol Ann, you get back inside right this minute!" my worried, petite mother yelled from the front porch, using her arms as an umbrella. My father stayed behind the clear door, dry, and watching from afar, obviously not as worried about me like my mother. My heart sank while opening the car door and crumbled into the driver's seat. I mouthed the word sorry, even though my mother more than likely did not see me through the tropical storm beating against my windshield. Trusting my instincts, I reversed out of the gravel pavement, hoping a family member wasn't near or chasing my vehicle.

I blotted away all the wetness from my face, not sure if it was rain or tears streaming down from my eyes like white water.

Any other day I kept repeating to myself.

Any other day, any other storm, I would've stayed cooped up in my parents house, safe, dry, fed, and warm. I would have lived with my parents constantly bickering while eating a hot meal my mother would've made just before the storm hit, just in case the power goes out. I would have dealt with my older sister Cynthia's pregnancy pains and hormones while her boyfriend and my younger brother talked all of our heads off about car parts and tattoos.

Any other day.

Any other day I'll endure my family's preposterous entities.

But not today.

Not this storm.

Something was telling me that I had to go home. Something was telling me that this hurricane was just going to be like the others; damaging and substantial, yet survivable winds, rain, and hail and that there would be no point in staying at my childhood home tonight. Something was telling me that my lonely, empty condo was the best place to be protected from danger tonight. My downy, snow white, thick, warm bed was the only thing on my mind, besides who I wanted to see in that downy, snow white, thick, warm bed. I swallowed hard, attempting to hold back more salty tears. Just me wanting him to be in our old bed made me want to scream in agony. I mourned at how badly I wanted to see him half undressed, hidden under the mountain of blankets we used to collect, sitting in silence as we listened to the thunder shake our hometown. Chills ran up and down my spine as I imagined his fingers softly rubbing my back, tracing circles until I fell asleep. His hand would still be placed dead center of my back when I woke up. It always was. Always. Every morning. I incessantly had thoughts of getting his name tattooed at that exact spot, but then I thought about bringing that spot pain, even the tiniest amount of pain and he wouldn't be free to touch it whenever he pleased. Not in any time that I ever think about that spot on my lower back never being touched again. I never thought he would stop. But one night, he did. First it was my back, next my body, last my lips. He never came home. When he was home, he'd either be asleep on the couch or in our condo parking lot working on his dirtbike that he rode roughly every other month. It killed him to make eye contact with me and it killed me even more watching him with my restless bare eyes fall out of love with me.

The almost black clouds swirled above this small South Carolina town, causing the most apocalyptic sight I've ever seen. Luckily the rain has slowed down some, just enough so my headlights could make out the terror ahead of me. Trees were losing its branches and a local evacuated trailer park located off the highway's exit was nothing short of being a landfill. I continued to drive slowly through town, unsuccessfully dodging puddles that will soon flood the streets. As I ceased the last falling tears from my eyes, I began to steer left onto the avenue, only to catch sight of bright beaming headlights ahead of me. I proceeded cautiously towards the irradiation. I noticed briskly that my car was the only one moving and at the moment of passing, the headlights were from a crashed motorcycle lying on the side of the road, also accompanied by a body. My hand went straight to my mouth, attempting to quiet my gasp as if I had just seen a ghost. I wish it were a ghost. If it were a ghost my heart wouldn't feel as much guilt as it does now. I kept watching the body in the rearview mirror hoping it would show some kind of movement, however the rain began to rush down from the sky again, making me lose the ability to see the motionless figure. My conscience danced on my shoulders, should I help? Should I leave them there and pray that the next passing driver is more or a guardian angel than me? My foot slammed on the breaks, causing my tires to spin through the flood, swashing over my windshield. My legs couldn't stop shaking, my heartbeat was beating through my ears as I U-turned and pulled behind the accident. My headlights haloed a better view of the bloodstained hair. It was a man. His face was planted in the ground but his slouched broad shoulders easily told me he was a man. I struggled opening my umbrella, my fingertips trembled trying to press the button. Once it extended and flew open, my shoes were instantly ruined by the swampish grass below me. Using my underarms to help me hold the umbrella, I quickly turned over the dying, or maybe already dead, man to his back. Without hesitation this time, I used his leather jacket to help me pull his muscled weight under a weeping willow. It did not keep us dry however it was clear enough for me to see his chiseled, pale, bruised, valorous face. Blood ran down his forehead, from the top of his scalp and barely missed his black eye. My heart was beating a million beats a minute. I am in nursing school, but all of my training and studying and 12 hour shifts at the hospital were all for nothing. I was clueless. I started panicking. My hands started patting down his body as if I were a drug searching cop to find any type of identification, phone numbers, inhalers, pictures, anything, to help me out in this situation. Honestly, it was the only thing I could do. I was the only one who could do this. No one else in town was on the roads tonight. There were no payphones near us that weren't within a ten mile radius. My condo is still another ten minutes away, I could leave him stranded here just for the amount of time it would take me to go home and call 911. If he were dead I'd consider it. If he were dead I'd leave him here for a family member to find him and they would know for sure what happened to their missing son. But to my luck, he had a pulse. I pressed my fingers to his wrist and throat, trying my best not to cry in excitement that this stranger is alive and might make it if I act fast. I took him by the coat cuff and color again and pulled him along the wet dirt, his body leaving a mud trail behind us. Mercifully, I left my car running, using the headlights to guide my way through the rain and hail maze.

"Poor guy," I mumbled under my breath. "Don't worry. This is way more uncomfortable for me than it is for you." I calmed him before luring him to my backseat. I ran to the passenger side, pushed all of my books and used coffee cups to the floorboard, and braced myself before hooking my arms under his shoulders and pulling his wet, bleeding body inside my car. I didn't realize how tall he was until I crammed his boots inside, hoping I didn't rupture an already broken bone. I hopped back into the driver's seat and gripped onto the steering wheel, struggling to catch my breath. If any person were to pass by during that moment, they'd no doubt believe that I was a serial killer who was loading up their latest murder.

"What am I doing?" I asked myself, speeding down the road as if I were a serial killer trying to hide my latest murder.

My tires treaded water the entire way to the glowing red hospital.