Bridget's Story

Have you ever thought about killing your little sister? It wasn't like I stabbed her or anything, I honestly didn't mean to. It was a complete accident. Everybody said don't text and drive, but I never took it seriously.

***

The first day back from winter break; I was excited about going to school with my new iPhone. That morning, I left yelling at Mom. She told me I had to pick up Cammie, my little sister, after school. I'd rather be with my friends than pick up my baby sister with her little fifth grade friends.

***

I pulled up at our meeting spot and saw her talking to her best friends. I honked the car at her trying to tell her to get her ass in the car now, so I could get on with my life. I never knew this was going to be her last time talking to them.

"Hey Bridge," Cammie said casually as she opened the door to shotgun. Technically according to the law she wasn't suppose to be sitting in the front seat, but I really didn't care and the car ride was only five minutes.

"Rather not be picking you up," I snapped. I started driving again.

Ding, ding. The noise came from my iPhone. I pulled it out of my light blue North face jacket and glanced down at the new text message. Cammie peered over my shoulder, reading my texts.

"Stop reading my text's." I snapped at her. Quickly, she leaned back into her seat. All of the sudden, Cammie screamed.

"BRIDGET, WATCH OU--!" she screamed. But she never got to finish her sentence.

***

My eyes blinked open. I saw a green car smashed into the front of ours. The window shield completely shattered. Cammie on the grass with blood dripping down her face.

Dead.

Hopefully, it wasn't what I thought it was. I jumped out of the car, not knowing what to do. I felt a stabbing pain in my hand and saw a deep, dark red cut on my hand, but that was the least of my problems. I called 911. And I starred down at Cammie's face. I was hoping for the best, but I knew it would be the worst.

I started crying. I didn't know what to do. I was only sixteen, and here I was staring at my dying, little sister, doing nothing.

I realized that I killed her. Not on purpose, but I still killed her. I yelled at her as I read my text messages. And now she's dying.

***

She'd never get to go to Prom. Or get a wedding dress. Or go on a date. She'd never see anyone again. She'd never get a Driver's License. Or be a parent. She'd never be in love.

I thought back on her life, there were so many more things she could have done. It wasn't a life lived to the fullest. It wasn't complete. She could have had so many more memories. I remembered her smiling and laughing. Or even crying and frowning. I wanted to go back to any of those moments. And what was I going to tell my family? That I killed my own sister? That is was an accident, as if they'd ever be able to forgive me?

***

But the worst part was that she's never going get to say goodbye. And with that, I cried harder. She was bloody, but I didn't care. I hugged her and smelled the scent of her strawberry shampoo mixed with the smell of blood. To my right, a police car was pulling up and policemen were jumping out, but I knew that they couldn't fix what just happened. What just happened to her. What I just did.