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Her body is motionless. Her head is caught in the car’s windshield, glass is scattered everywhere. One of her arms is twisted back in an awkward position, the other is rested by her head. Her foot is still pressing hard on the brake petal. I look at her chest hoping to see it steadily moving up and down. It isn’t. I panic and I reach down for my seatbelt. I feel something slimy and wet: blood. I reach up to my head, where the blood is oozing like a stream. Everything goes fuzzy.
I wake up to the sound of a siren going off, I peek my eyes open, and find myself stuck in a stretcher loaded on an ambulance truck. Everywhere I look I see medical supplies; some are on the counter, while others are stuffed in the tiny drawers against the side of the truck. I see two EMT’s running around frantically like mice trying to escape from a cat. One of the nurses tries to stick an IV in my arm.
“I’m fine!” I say as I struggle to get up, “Good to go.” The other nurse quickly pushes me back down, strapping a belt across my body.
“Don’t worry honey everything is going to be okay.” She says trying to comfort me. The only problem is she says it over and over like she isn’t sure.
“Knock, knock anyone here?” says a lady in Mickey Mouse scrubs walks into my hospital room. “Hello, Linda. My name is Jandi Dean.” She says offering her hand. I stare at it curiously, wondering how she knows my name. She puts her hand down. “I don’t expect you to remember me or anything but, I was one of the EMT’s at your accident last night.”
“Oh…” I say glancing at the TV.
“Um…so, your parents, well asked if I’d tell you that your sister didn’t make the accident...” She pauses with a concerned look on her face, I know she waiting for my response.
“How?” I ask, trying to hold back the tears.
“Well, your sister, Meghan was driving pretty fast and when she hit a telephone pole. Since she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and her head went straight through the windshield. We sent her to the hospital but, she was already gone by the time we got here. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh….” I say, not sure how to respond to something like that. And before I know it I’m bawling like a little baby.
“Meghan’s life was well spent. She was the perfect student and role model. She was loved by friends and family and will be missed.” I listen to this preacher I don’t know, ramble on and on about my sister, and how great she was. But, all I could think about was how he didn’t actually know her or anything about her. I can remember one time when Meghan and I were young; we tried to make breakfast for our parents. The eggs turned out runny, the orange juice was watery and pancakes started a fire in our kitchen. I wanted to wake up my parents as soon as the fire started but, Meghan said otherwise. She threw flour on the fire and it stopped. Meghan always seemed to know what to do. When I was feeling down she would take me to Starbucks and get me a coffee to warm me up. We were like two peas in one pod.
Every kept on glimpsing at me, every second a new pair of eyes was on me. All of there eyes seem to be apologetic and questioning my next move. I myself was a raging thunder storm ready to explode at any given moment. So, I did what some people do best, I ran. I zoomed past Wal-Mart, Radio Shack and the little burrito shack, and kept going until I reach the cemetery. Meghan’s cemetery. I looked down at the head stone, wondering why her and not me? She still had a life to live. It’s disappointing to think how one simply decision can destroy a perfectly good life.