Insanity

The Moment I Realized...

I see the top of my eyelids and open them fully, the world blurry and hazy.

"Danny?" I try to call out, but it coming out soft and weak since my voice is so hoarse. I try shifting in my seat but feel a sharp pain in the upper part of my right leg. "Oh shit," I say as a reaction to the pain. I look down at my leg and see a part of what used to be the door handle jammed into my leg. "Oh shit." I say this time as more of an urgency than just reaction.

I try pulling out the piece of metal, but it hurts far too much. I then look up to take a look at my surroundings. I see the front of the jeep with smoke rising from it. I then turn to my right, expecting to see a smashed door to my side, but the door isn't as totaled as I though it'd be. The door is only smashed mainly on the front of it, including the door handle, and I guess that's because we only wrecked the front of the car. But Danny was defiantly picking up speed when we crashed, so who knows how far the damage went through the car.

"Danny!" I cry out a little louder, remembering him now. I turn to my left to see Danny's head resting on the steering wheel and the air bag, blood still dripping down the side of his face and his blank expression worrying me.

I remember I'm wearing a seat belt and undo it, moving best I can with my leg to get to Danny. I adjust his head and that makes me gasp and cover my mouth with my cut up hand. "Danny..." I trail off, out of breath. I see a huge and deep gash on the left side of his forehead and blood coming from his mouth. His eyebrow is cut, his nose is bent slightly to one side, and the top of his head is producing most of the blood streaming down the side of his face, minus the gash on his forehead.

I'm tempted to scream for help, tempted to punch the crinkled dashboard, even tempted to get out and try to run and see if I can find a world without the infected and a severely injured Danny. But instead of taking action and expressing my anger,

I cry.

I cry and I cry until I feel I can't cry any longer. "Danny," I mumble, "please wake up." I grab ahold of the side of his face, the one away from the gash, but still drenching my hand in his red, glistening blood. I tap the side of his face, trying anything for him to open his eyes, for him to twitch, anything. "Danny," I say, "open your eyes, okay?" I say as I begin to cry once more. I pull my hand away from his face and wipe the tears away with both of my hands, getting my left eye covered in blood.

I turn the rear-view mirror in my direction and it's leveled with my head, and I see the red splotch covering my eye and dripping down my cheek, almost as if I'm crying tears of blood. And then I snap and I scream as I punch the glass of the mirror with my right hand and see my reflection shatter in pieces and some fall onto Danny's lap, some on the floor of the jeep, and some on the wrecked dashboard. I look into the mirror and see my face disoriented, not put together well at all and things in many wrong places. Kind of reminding me of how my life is right now, everything clear as glass and then everything just gets shattered.

"Water," I whisper, drawing myself from my gaze, "water will wake him up." I kick the door open with my left leg, seems how the door handle broke off and my right leg is injured, and I limp out of the car only to be stopped and my heart sinks to my toes and jumps to my throat all at once.

"Having trouble there, little-lady?" A rusty voice asks me. I gulp and turn to the man and see he's not infected, at least not from what I can tell. He has deep green eyes and a brown stubble with brown hair. He has ripped jeans, an old t-shirt and a green handkerchief dangling from his belt loop. I don't answer him, I don't even move. But I do notice he has a knife in one pocket and a gun sitting in between his fingers and being held in his hand.

"I said," he repeats, "having trouble?"

I shake my head and put my hand where my knife should be, but realize it got misplaced in the accident.