Pray For Humboldt

Imagine this:

You're on your team bus, travelling to your game. The people you have played with and have basically grew up with are all around you, blasting music, talking and most importantly, discussing a game plan. You smile. Because you love your team, your brothers, your best friends. And you don't know what you would do without them.

You pass onto an intersection, and the sound of tires squealing make the way to your ears. The talking is replaced by yelling and the sound of metal on metal. You hear crashing and burning and cries for help.

Then it all goes black.
•••
"Hey, get them out of there!"

A man yelling wakes you up, and the first thing you see is the sky. The sky was blue, but it's tinged red now. You wonder why.

You look around, suddenly noticing the fire and metal pieces laying around you. Then you notice one on you. It's pinning your legs down, but you feel no pain. Your numb. Because you can't feel anything from the waist down.

Panic stays away, for what reason, you don't know. You turn your head to the left to see your best friend, laying in a bloody heap under a huge piece of metal. His eyes are wide open, glassy and unseeing.

Dead.

And it all fades away again.
•••

"Do you think he'll make it?" A woman and . Crying by the sound of it. Her sniffles filled the air. The beeping of the hospital monitors woke you, but you couldn't open my eyes.

You hear someone sigh, clearly devastated.

"It's a possibility. But he has to wake up first."

The woman's small sniffling turns into loud, uncontrollable sobs. The man must've escorted her out of the room quickly, for it was gone as quickly as it came.

A single tear rolls down your cheek.

You realize you won't see all your best friends again. You won't see them celebrating and laughing and smiling with you again. You won't see them with their own kids, you won't see them get married, you won't see them be with you, by your side.

Ever. Again.

Because they're gone.

They're all gone.