Dedicated to @Sleep_deprived8
I've never the best at making good choices. Like that time when I was twelve, and I found my sister's diary. I wrote a ton of crap about her on an empty page, and it ended with my parents having to send her away to rehab after she broke down. It wasn't exactly worth it. However, I think I can safely assure you that what happened two months ago, was a lot worse.
It was a Friday afternoon. Me and a few friends were going to a party that night, and it was held a couple miles out of town. The host's parents had left for a buisness trip, so he, like every other Friday this occured, would host a houseparty. I'd told my parents that I was going to a sleepover at Monica's, just like she told her parents she was going to a sleepover at my place. Our parents are a little stupid, so we knew we'd get away with it.
I'm interrupted by the guard passing by my cell. It's not big, but it's bigger than I thought it would be. I ask for pen and paper, telling that it's because I want to be able to write down my thoughts and feelings when needed, but I actually want to use it to write down what happened that night. I don't know why I need to do this, I just know that I need it. I think it has to do with me being so ashamed of it, as well as the fact that the guilt is practically killing me slowly from the inside out.
We arrived at the party around half past eight. I'd driven, had been driving too fast, but none of the others had given a single fuck about it. They were more concerned about Sandra's newest ig post. She's always dropping edgy photos on instagram. Not that it really matters, but that's what happened on the way there. The party also went well. Quite a few people got a little too drunk, but that wasn't a rare occurence. It was on the way home it all fell apart.
At four o'clock, we decided to leave and head home. I sat down in the driver's seat again, since I wasn't nearly as drunk as the others. We put the radio on and turn the volume to max. Half way home I was so tired that I almost fell asleep. At one point I simply drove off the road, did a turn, without thinking about what could be off the road.
The car crashed straight into a tree. Everyone was thrown around in the car, as if our weight was that of a feather's. Emily was thrown out of the car and landed on the ground, lying still with a pool of blood forming on the ground where she landed. Peter and Carlson were smashed into the seats in front of them, their blood dripping down onto my back. However, the one that recieved the worst treatment, was Lara. She sat in the passenger's seat next to me. One of the tree branches, which was rotten to the core, I've been told, fell down and broke her neck. I couldn't feel my legs, and I'll never be able to walk again.
The night arrives rather quickly. I don't sleep well at all, but it's quite nice when it's quiet. It gives me a break to release my thoughts and feelings, it gives me the eneregy I need in order to survive long enough to be be present at the trial that will be held in a few weeks. My tears will not run dry that day, I know that for a fact. That trial will break me, I'm sure of it.
The sole survivor was me.
