"it was raining. and, and we couldn't see a thing. i'm not really sure why we didn't pull over. i think he just wanted to get there. but it was dark and rainy and i'm pretty sure one of the headlights was messed up. and back seat got soaked because the window was stuck open and-"
"take a deep breath. that's a lot for someone who doesn't like to talk much, hm?"
"do you want me to finish or not? you said i need to work on talking about it."
[raised eyebrows but nods]
"we could hear the wind howling and i could faintly see the tree branches roughly moving. it was kinda sudden. the sudden you don't expect. but i saw it. i saw it coming and i didn't even call out until it was too goddamn late. and you know what? it was my fucking fault he died! because if i had screamed or even whispered, he could have swerved! he would still be here. and i wouldn't have to sit in this shitty office describing my dumb thoughts to you, and i wouldn't have to work on speaking about how he died because of me. it's my fault. i killed him. not that tree. "
[stands up and leaves]
YOU ARE READING
Lost
Short Storyin which two people face death in two different ways. -- the patient's words are in bold lettering.
