Fuck.
What just happened? What the hell did I do?
Wow my neck hurt.
There was something in my hand. There was something in front of my face.
It was a deflating airbag. I was in my car. I was still alive.
So I screamed.
Struggling to unbuckle my seatbelt, all I could say was "Oh my God" over and over again. Once I finally managed to free myself, I sprang out of my car to asses the damage.
It was the first weekend of December and I had just left work and was on my way back home. All I did was check the gas gauge to determine whether or not I had to stop and fill up on the way. Somehow during those two milliseconds I was glancing at the gauge, I had missed a turn on the exit I was taking to go onto the highway and started going over the curb, towards bushes and trees. When I looked up and finally processed what was happening, I swerved out of the way to my left and hit something. I didn't know what it was. I didn't even know there was anything on that exit to hit at all.
Looking at my car I saw that I had crashed into a streetlight, and the entire pole had fallen on my car, cracking the windshield and denting part of the roof.
My hands immediately flew up to my face as I started to sob hysterically. "Oh my God." I couldn't believe I had done this. God, I could only imagine what my parents would say about this.
Wait. My parents. They were going to kill me. The amount of money we would have to pay for the damages would certainly be more than we could afford, or at least, I could afford. I hadn't even had my license or my car for a year yet I'd already managed to get into my first accident which may or may not put my family in debt.
I dropped to the ground at the thought of it. They always talked about how money was an issue. Whether it was major or not, I wasn't exactly sure, but the way they talked about it and how often it was a topic of conversation at the dinner table made me extremely worried. They already spent so much money on me, what with dance classes and every costume piece, shoe, and dance attire that went along with them. Those alone, between my sister and I, were the equivalent of leasing almost three cars each month. Our love for dance was sucking the family bank accounts dry, and I was about to add to those expenses from being so idiotic and careless.
"Hey!" I heard a voice off to my left cry. I snapped my head up and saw a bearded, but friendly-looking young man running towards me. "Hey, are you ok?"
I quickly scrambled up from where I was sitting in an attempt to pull myself together, but one look at the concern on this man's face made me start bawling again.
He opened his arms as he got closer to me and I immediately fell into them. "Shh, it's ok, it's ok," he said soothingly, though I was certain he was wrong.
Another car had pulled over past my own wrecked one. A middle-aged couple were making their way over to us, also asking me if I was ok. I said I was, or at least I thought I said it. The way my body was violently shaking didn't really allow me to form whole words.
"Did you call 911?" the woman asked.
Shit. No. And that was the one thing you were supposed to do in an emergency and I had totally forgotten it. I really was an idiot.
I shook my head and she assured me that she would call them herself.
That's when I remembered my parents. They didn't know what had happened. I needed to at least call one of them to come get me. I didn't want to be stuck her with these strangers to talk to the cops when they came.
