Hold my hand

The Crash

He shouldn't have been driving. I knew that, yet I let him drive. He had been drinking at the party we had gone to.
It was loud and sweaty, and the drinks were all spiked, so everyone was in an alcohol induced haze.
A few of us had stayed sober enough to be reasonable. I was one, my girlfriend was one, and my friend John was the other. We were dancing, and we danced until we were tired and sweaty.
My brother, Dave, said we should get home; it was late.
Anna and James carpooled, while I stuck with Dave.
"I can drive. Trust me." He said.
"Dave, you're drunk off your ass, give me the keys." I sighed.
"No, I'm perfectly capable of driving. Chill little sis, I've got it." He insisted.
"Fine." I grumbled. I shouldn't have given up like that. It was just stupid.
We got in the car, and I made him buckle his seat belt.
He was doing okay, then his hands started shaking, and the steering wheel shook with him.
"Dave." His grip on the wheel tightened, and he stopped shaking for the moment.
Then he took a careless turn, and the car swerved violently.
My head flew to the right, smashing against the window. Blood dripped down my temple slowly, almost tauntingly. My ears were ringing, and multi-colored lights were dancing across my vision.
"Nat! Are you okay?" Dave yelled, shaking my shoulder.
"Ye-yeah, I think so."
Then the car lurched down the hill beside the road. The car rolled, the windshield broke, throwing glass everywhere. One shard lodged into my shoulder, but that pain was drowned out by the one in my face. Several smaller pieces of glass had lodged into the left side of my face. It felt as if someone had lit it on fire and dumped a gallon if gasoline on it, then beat it with a spiked club.
Blood ran into my eyes as my head was thrown against the dash.
When the car stopped moving, I couldn't hear, could barely see, and everything was fading quickly.
The pain wasn't so bad anymore, and I welcomed the fast coming dark.

The hospital-2:36

When I woke up, a nurse rushed out of the room, and returned with a doctor. He checked the heart monitor to my left, then gave me a normal check up.
"Where's my brother?!" I demanded, ignoring the burn from under the bandage covering the majority of the left side of my face.
"He- he didn't make it." The doctor said solemnly, his head lowered.
A violent cry escaped my chapped lips, and tears filled my eyes. It hurt to cry, but I couldn't stop. I covered my face with my hands- one wrapped in a thick bandage, and screamed and cried and sobbed. No one said anything. No one said 'I'm sorry'. No one tried to comfort me. And for that I was thankful. I needed to cry. To relieve the pressure building in my throat and chest.