The Dangerfields

Chapter Seventeen

I sit in the backseat of a small car. To my left is the empty leather seats, bursts of light flashing across them as we pass streetlights. To my right is the open window, sending a cool spring breeze through the car.

    My grandmother drives the car, looking back occasionally through the rearview mirror to look at the seven-year-old me in the backseat. Her grey hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and a few wisps escape it, only to be tucked behind her ears by her long thin fingers, used to play the piano masterfully.

    In my lap sits a large tub of chocolate ice cream. Ryder, Mom and I had gone over to my grandparents' house for dinner, and after finishing, Grandma realized that she had forgotten to get dessert. I volunteered to go with her, and we quickly drove to the grocery store.

Between the ice cream and the cool breeze, I develop a chill, which starts in my thighs, and travels through my body, causing goosebumps to break out on my arms and legs. I shiver and roll the window up.

Grandma looks back at me and smiles. "Getting cold, dear?" She asks, and I nod. "Well, then how can you eat ice cream if you're cold? You better warm up before we get home." She winks at me, and turns her gaze back to the road.

"I'll be okay, I can have a blanket around me as I eat ice cream. Then I won't be cold," I say, not ready to miss out on a bowl of chocolatey goodness. Grandma just laughs as me, and we come to a four way stop. Grandma stops, and after confirming that there was no other cars, Grandma lightly presses her foot on the gas, and we start forwards again.

It seems to come from out of nowhere, but suddenly, a black pickup comes over the hill to the left of us.

The truck is swerving slightly on the road, and it is obvious to me that the driver is intoxicated. The driver doesn't seem to notice the bright stop sign, as he doesn't slow down as he nears it. He continues to drive over 100 kilometers an hour, and I gasp at it draws closer to us.

The truck crashes into our small red car, on the driver's side. The force of the crash is enough to throw me against the window, and my head smacks against the glass. The cars keep travelling for a good 20 meters before they screech to a complete stop.

The airbags have deployed in the front seat, but at this point, there is nothing that can be done to help her.

The sound of screaming reaches my ears, and with a start I realize it is my own. My head is pounding from hitting the glass so hard, and I hear the blood pounding in my ears.

I look to the front seat, and immediately wish I hadn't. Where Grandma's seat was is now occupied by the indented truck through the door of our car, and Grandma's seat is now almost in the middle of the car.

Grandma isn't moving, and she isn't breathing. The wispy pieces of hair have been untucked from behind her ears, but she makes no move to tuck them back into place. Her left shoulder is out of place, and her arm is in an awkward position. Her head is cut, and blood is dripping from it, staining her light hair and skin, soaking into her yellow shirt.

Her eyes are open, but unseeing. She is staring at nothing. "Grandma?" I call out, trying to break her out of her trance, "Why didn't he stop?"

With every passing second my head hurts more, and I start to cry loudly. "Grandma!" I sob, "Answer me! What are you staring at? Why won't you look at me?"

She doesn't answer me, nor does she move. For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating, the rushing of blood through my head, and the sobs that shake my body.

Starting faintly, but growing more distinct, is the sound of sirens. They come closer and closer until two ambulances pull up near the accident, along with a couple of police cruisers. Paramedics jump out of the ambulance and run over to our cars. My door is yanked open, and flashlights are shined at me.

I am still crying, and the paramedic that stands before me quickly undos my seatbelt and pulls me from my carseat. She places me on a stretcher, and returns to the car to help another paramedic to extract my grandmother from the front.

She is placed on a stretcher as well, but I see the girl shake her head as she checks Grandma's pulse. The man from the truck, the one who drove into us, is dead as well, and being put on a stretcher.

Police are putting up caution tape around the area affected by the crash, and my stretcher is placed in one of the ambulances. Before the doors close, I see Grandma on her stretcher, being put in the other ambulance, as well as the stretcher with the drunk man.

The ambulance starts moving, taking me to the hospital. "Grandma," I cry.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," says one of the paramedics, "You're safe now."

I don't say anything, but all I can think of is Grandma. How she isn't safe. My heart starts to beat faster, and my vision blurs, and eventually, I lose consciousness.

When I wake up, I am in a dark room. My head throbs and as I turn to look around the room, my vision swims.

I feel a hand on my arm, and Mom's voice says, "Willow? Are you awake, honey?"

I move so my hand grips hers. "Mommy, where's Grandma?" I ask.

She chokes, and I have no doubt that she is trying to hold in her sobs. "Grandma died, honey. The truck that hit the car- do you remember the crash?" I nod, but gasp quietly when my head spins. "The truck killed her when it hit," Mom finishes.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, as though it will change the fact. However, the quick movement has my head spinning again, and I stop moving.

"My head hurts so bad, Mommy," I whine, laying it back against my pillow.

"You have a severe concussion, and it's a lucky thing that's the main injury you got. You were battered up pretty good, and have a bunch of bruises and cuts, but not as bad as it could've been. I'm so glad you're okay, honey." Mom sobs through the last sentence, and I feel hot tears running down my cheeks.

The door opens, spilling bright light into the room, and I gasp and close my eyes as my head throbs from the bright light.

"Sorry, Willow," I hear Grandpa's voice - rough-sounding, and I know he has been crying - as the door closes and two pairs of feet come closer. I feel a fairly small pair of hands on mine and know that Ryder is the owner of them.

"You're going to be okay, Willow. The doctors said you can come home in a day or two. Everything will be alright." Ryder's voice cracks as he speaks, and in the dim light from under the door, I see tears glisten as they roll down his cheeks.

Medically, I was okay. But I never forgot about that day. It haunted me with nightmares for years afterwards, and I couldn't get out of my head the look in Grandma's eyes as she stared blankly out the window. I will never forget our last moments together, happily joking together, like we always did.

She was the first family member I recall losing. She was the only one I could remember, until just recently.

Ryder's words to me were lies. Everything wasn't alright. It was eventually, once we stopped grieving, but that didn't come for months. And when we decided that everything was okay again, it wasn't, not really.

Because Grandma wasn't there anymore. Without her, things couldn't go back to normal.

I tried to bury that memory, keep it away, where it couldn't hurt me. For a few years, it actually worked.

But things like that don't last forever, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before that day came flooding back to me, and it would hurt once more.

A/N: Happy New Year! I can't believe it's already 2016! Sorry about these late updates, I haven't been feeling super-inspired lately. Please comment and vote! I'd like to know what you think, but everyone's so quiet...

Anyways, constructive criticism is always welcome, I'm always looking for ways I can improve. :)

-ForeveraNerd17 :D