Show Me the Stars

December 24th 11:36pm

I should have died that day.

It was the day that my car had skidded off the road, over the bridge, and onto the rocks of the . The car was a mess. Which is a shame because I absolutely adored that car. It was a white Jeep Wrangler. Top of the line and best of it's class.

When it slipped on the ice, it spun around three times before crashing into the rather short railing of the bridge. The car then decided "Hey! Why not crash into the area of the river with the most rocks?". The front of the car was the first to feel the impact of the stones which then broke my windshield. The car then fell on it's side into a fresh pile of rocks and broke through the side windows. For a short period of time in which the car did not move even an inch, I assumed that I was in the clear and the worst was behind me; I was wrong.

The car then slid backwards into an underwater ditch, and water began to pour in like customers to a Black Friday sale. I tried to pry myself from under the weight of the mangled metal before the water submerged the entire car. To say it was a hassle would be putting it beyond lightly. My winter attire, which one would assume would give me protection, aided in the struggle to break free. The weight of the water soaked clothes brought me down rather than up. 

The water was now to my knees.

I pulled at my left arm which was lodged between my seat and part of the damaged door. Though it eventually was liberated it did not come without the hefty fine of a temporarily useless limb, and significant blood less. With my right arm, I held onto part of the broken window frame. Using both my arm and feet, I was able to pull myself out of the car and situate myself upon the hood.

But the car was still sinking.

I looked up at the bridge and saw a line of spectators pointing their fingers and gawking at me. They parted as a police officer approached the railing and cursed at the sight of me atop of my car. I waved up to him with my right hand and he waved back.

"A chopper is coming to pick you up," he yelled through a megaphone.

"Thank you," I yelled, although I doubt he ever heard me.

I decided to drag my body onto a rock because of the fear that soon enough, the whole thing would go under. The minute my body was on more stable ground, the entire car disappeared under the depths below. And to think, I had spent the past eight years of my life saving to buy that car fully at the dealership.

The helicopter arrived within a few minutes, and my body was hoisted up into the bird. As I rose up into the belly of the machine, it felt as if I were ascending into heaven, or the great beyond, or wherever we go to next. All I knew was that if death were to befall me in that moment, I was ready. I was prepared.

Once I was in the hospital, they got right to work on the mangled mess of my body. To be frank, I'm not quite sure what they did to me. All I remember is waking up in a white room surrounded by a forest of equipment. I tried to stretch my arms only to discover that I was not only in a cast, but that my entire body was in a cast.

A lady came in a few minutes after I woke up. She was a nice lady with a voice that was a bit to high for my liking, but I smiled along as if it did not bother me. Her hair was in a mousy bob, and her lipstick was severely faded. The bags under her eyes told me that she could not wait to go home, kick up her feet, and sleep.

Yet despite her fatigue, she was kind to me.

She asked me how I slept, and I told her fine. She asked me how I felt, and I said fine. She offered me water and even helped me take a sip of it. She readjusted my bed when I made a small comment about how my back was in pain. The lady even talked to me about my college, my major, and even a bit about my family. Her generosity was overwhelming, and that should have been as much of a red flag as the cast.

After a while, she asked me why I was in the hospital, and if I remembered anything from the day before. "To be frank," I replied. "I'm not exactly sure why I'm here."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes. In fact. I should be on the way to see my family, but I guess I won't be doing much moving now," I joked.

She did not laugh. Instead, she crossed her legs and leaned in close to me. "Ms. Hope, I'm afraid that something tragic has just occurred in your family. I know this will be hard to hear, but please just be understanding."

"I'd hardly call this tragic. It's simply a matter of a few broken bones. I'll be fine soon enough–"

"Ms. Hope," she says as she puts her hand on my thigh. "I'm not talking about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Ms. Hope, who were you going to go see yesterday?"

"My mom and dad, my sister Anne and my brother Conrad. I already told you–"

"Ms. Hope, please don't make this any harder than it has to be," she interrupts. "Surely you must have figured it out by now?"

"Figured what out?" I ask. "What happened?"

"All of them except Conrad are dead, and I'm afraid to tell you that you are being charged with their murders."