Too Close For Comfort

Chapter One;

::Authors Note:: Anything in italics is when Aspen is either thinking back to the time of the accident or recounting something that has happened before.

I would go to the library every single day instead of going to lunch. I never did want to be in the lunchroom, sitting alone at a table isn't always what it seems to be. It's January nineteenth. I'm sitting at my normal table in the library, reading. As I read The Great Gatsby, I hear people talking. They don't bother to be quiet, even if the numerous signs around the room read different things on being quiet. After a while of trying not to listen to what they were saying, the taller brunette walked over to me.

"Hey, Aspen." He muttered.

My eyes quickly went up to his face, shaking my own head. "Oh.. Hey." I inquired, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Are you going to go to the party tonight?" He asked me and I mumbled something that sounded like no. So he went on, "It would be awesome if you could come."

"I-I don't know. I'm not the party type, and I don't even have a ride." I managed to get out, not making any kind of eye contact.

"Well, Jones and I will meet you here at eight. Be here, alright?" He mused before he quickly walked away, gesturing to his friend to follow him.

I was confused, of course. Why would he be talking to me? This must be some kind of prank. Will my life end up like the movie Carrie, and I'm the main character? The one who ends up murdering hundreds of kids, innocent and guilty, and I have to hide for the rest of my life? No, that would never happen. But, then again, I didn't think the events that occurred that night would ever happen, either. It was January nineteenth.

I don't know why I decided to go to that party. Maybe it was the thought of being accepted and welcome that made the offer more realistic than it actually was.

We had finally made it to the house that the party was at, even if it took nearly two hours of driving. Jesse, the brunette who asked me to go to the party, had picked me up at almost eight thirty. My mom, of course, let me go. As long as I promised her that I wouldn't do anything stupid. But getting into that car after the party, that was stupid. It was one of the worst decisions that I had ever made.

"Do you want some punch, Aspen?" Jesse had asked me as I awkwardly stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at a group of people dancing to extremely loud music. I turned my attention to Jesse and quickly shook my head, "Oh, no thank you." I refused the punch because I, of all teenagers, wasn't a complete idiot. I knew every trick in the book, even if it didn't seem like I did. I knew the punch was spiked.

"More for me," he muttered, already getting a buzz.

"I'm just going to wait in the car." I retorted, leaving through the back door before he could say another word. I walked around the house slowly and walked up and down the street looking for his car before I found it. I opened the back door before I sprawled across the seat, laying down. I shut my eyes for a few minutes before someone shook me.

"Hey, Aspen, you can get in the front, Jones is staying."

I got out of the backseat and awkwardly got into the front seat, not impressed at all.

As we were driving he chuckled, "You look tired."

"Well I was sleeping." I inquired, staring out the window. He put his hand on my thigh and I quickly looked down at it, following his arm up to his face.

"Don't." I managed, a voice that didn't seem like it was mine, but sounded like me.

"You're going to die a virgin if you stay as prude as you are now. Who else will sleep with you?" Jesse asked, barely paying any attention to the road.

I knew then that if I don't get out of the car, I'll do something I would regret in the long-run.

"Stop the car," I managed, unbuckling my seatbelt. When Jesse stared at me my voice rose with irritation, "Look at the road and stop the damn car." I finished. Then the unthinkable happened.

Black ice, they said. I'm lucky to be alive, they said. It's very hazardous and while driving in cold conditions, you have to be aware of it.

Jesse continued to drive, but as he drove his car began sliding on a long, dark piece of ice. I started to scream as the car spun around and Jesse yelled at me to be quiet. He tried flooring the gas, but even an idiot should know that's not a good idea.

Within moments the car began to roll and as I looked over at Jesse, I watched his face bash against the steering wheel, inevitably knocking him out. He was wearing his seatbelt, he'll be okay, I remember thinking. I glanced ahead again, my breathing catching in my throat as I felt my face hit the windshield. I don't remember anything after that. What I did remember, though, was that I wasn't wearing my seatbelt.