I remember it like it was just yesterday.
No, like it was just a minute ago. It all happened too quickly; the darkness of the empty road, the figure that materialized out of thin air, the crunch of bone and metal, the jolt of white-hot agony, and most of all the scent and taste of smoke and blood smothering me, robbing me of my consciousness.
All of this horrifyingly vivid, like a high-definition 3D movie taking place in my head. Sleep offers no solace, only sharpens the memory, replaying it over and over until I awaken, screaming and thrashing in a puddle of my own sweat.
If only I'd been more careful.
If only I'd listened to her.
YOU ARE READING
If Only
Teen FictionA person consists of every decision they have ever made, no matter how seemingly minuscule the choice. The breakfast cereal you chose, whether you decided to walk or bike to school, that extra piece of chocolate you ate — they all add up to the per...
