unedited. warning; may bring along ptsd if you, as well as myself, crashed. the video is all real. thanks for letting me throw my emotions out when i don't have a person i want to dump all my problems on.
**also, the video i recorded was when i was all healed, so it wasnt bad thankfully. i felt like shit so i didnt really care about focusing my camera.
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By the time the realization finally dawned on me; the moment was already over. Chest trembling, as my four-wheeler uttered to a halt in the middle of the street. I struggled to breathe in the lively and color-filled adobe houses, the happiness in the air, while my left hand trembled and felt the gaping hole near my inner thigh. I looked down at my hand before looking up once more, stopping at my recognizable friend - Saul. Alike the four-wheeler, he also uttered to a halt at the sight of me.
I knew I looked like a wreck. I could just imagine the mascara running down my distinct the gigantic bump that had begun to form under my eye. Yet, I was unaware of how wrecked my whole body was until Saul stuttered out,
"What...Happened?"
Blinking several times, I swung my head down towards the ignition and felt my eyes begin to burn as well as my chest. I then looked up, and Saul gave me an all-knowing look that, months later, would still haunt me.
"I....crashed." I managed to spit out between sobs. I turned my gaze away from him, before pressing on the gas and driving away. I felt the heat of engine near the gas pedal as I drove by Cosmes, as I drove past without stopping at the "ALTO" sign, as I quickly swerved to the sidewalk, parking beside the white and pale pink adobe house.
I shakily took my keys out of the ignition. I stood up, throwing my trembling leg over the other before approaching the barren white screen door, pulling it open.
One moment I clearly remember other than approaching Saul, was my nose sniffling as I stared at the paint on the glass of the entrance door, trying to regain all dignity I could possibly own. My bloody right hand raised to the door and knocked. I had no strength left within myself to possibly fumble with the keys. I still had no strength when my father aggressively pulled the door open, noticing my forever damaged body and puppy eyes as I ran into his arms.
"P-p-papi.." I managed to yell out between cries, mumbling some other words about the scenario that occurred. To my side, I saw my mother's brown-reddish hair bouncing as she approached with the utter-most fear and curiousity into the living room.
She saw me, the same way my father did, and embraced me fiercely without question, without any doubt. It made me sob even fiercer. My parents never were truly charismatic with me. Always stone-cold, factual. But on the twenty-second of August 2019, they were not.
I remember the feeling of my mother's cotton shirt getting soaked with my salty tears before my parents gently led me to their bedroom.
"I-I-flipped and fell me -I'-'m so sorry," I gulped out as I laid on the spring-mattress, as my father begun rolling a beer bottle on my cheek yelling at me, abruptly, to shut the hell up. They tended to me for the rest of the day, as best they could, placing my ankle and wrist back into place, treating my artificial wounds as the best they could. They did this, for hours as I continued to sob.
I remember them, terrified for my life yet trying not to show their fear in order for my sake. I remember, as they walked away for a second, talking to each other. Murmuring about concussions. About death.
My life continued like this for days. Through feeble words, through sobs, through the immense pain and pounding. I remember being taken to town for any medicine we could find.
Walking hurt so much, and so did the bumpy carratera all the way to town. I still could not stop apologizing to my mother and father even though they kept telling me my life was more important than a chunk of metal with some wheels.
My body would continue to pound and hurt for the entire trip, the crash leaving scars on my thighs, shoulders, and stomach. Thankfully those healed, unlike my mind. I vividly can recall several days later, being forced to drive the four-wheeler to town, fearful of my life on the curves. Every abrupt break I made or make today flushes memories back to me.
The yell my passenger made, the yelling I made as I flipped the four-wheeler off of myself, and the more yelling I made when I saw my damaged body.
To this day, Saul hasn't been able to look at me in the eyes directly, and nor have I. Him and I still are slowly healing, together or not.
