The Crash

June 3, 2012
By Lindsey Mitchell BRONZE, Chaska, Minnesota
Lindsey Mitchell BRONZE, Chaska, Minnesota
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I paced back and forth inside the locked bathroom. Come on, Molly. Just call Dad. He’ll bring you home, and you won’t have to worry about getting further into trouble.
But I couldn’t. My parents trusted me. Everybody would know why I had left. Somehow, I needed to play it cool. I’ll just ask Trent to take me home right away since I got sick in the bathroom. Yeah, that’s it.
As I stepped into the dim hallway, blaring pop music sounded in my ears. As I began to search for my boyfriend Trent, I wondered, where is he? Hopelessly, I scanned the huge living room. Finally, I spotted him near the beer kegs. Oh, no! Why did I even come to this stupid party? I have to get out of here.
“Trent!” I called across the room. “Trent, can you come here for a second?” He didn’t move. I marched over.
“Trent, can you take me home?”
“Why would I do that?” he said with a sneer. I could smell alcohol on his breath.
“NOW!” I said, stomping on his foot.

Before I had a chance to change my mind, Trent and I were already speeding down Pioneer Trail. Trent swerved and barely came to a halt at the corner stop sign.
“Trent, you’re going to get somebody killed!! Be careful!” I yelled.
“Relax,” he said in a slurred voice. “Everything’s alright.” With that he lurched forward and didn’t stop accelerating.
“Trent!” I shrieked. “WATCH OUT!!” But it was too late. We had run a red light, straight into an oncoming minivan. Suddenly, my face was full of airbag. The sound of crashing metal and breaking glass filled my ears. I screamed, but I couldn’t even hear myself. As soon as I could force my hands to work, I unbuckled my seatbelt, launching myself out of the car. I started sobbing uncontrollably.

Out of nowhere, a woman dressed completely in white appeared and ushered me off the road, rubbing my shoulders and whispering in my ear that I was safe.

When she got me to the side of the road, she immediately rushed back to the scene. My eyes followed her stride to the minivan. Instantly, my heart stopped. The van had traveled a huge distance away from the impact. People began gathering around the intersection. A man was relaying the story to the crowd that had swelled up, saying that the minivan had flipped and then rolled several times. I put my head down.

I chose not to look up again until the paramedics arrived. Scanning the area, I noticed that further down the curb, the woman dressed in white was holding two little boys! And another woman, perhaps the mother, was helping a paramedic hold a screaming little girl while he examined her for injuries.

I sprang up in horror.
“Did everybody survive the accident?” I began frantically asking the people around me. One onlooker said a drunk driver was being arrested. That was fine with me. Trent and I were finished for good.

“What about the kids? Are they okay? Are their parents alive?” The woman in white came up to me.

“Everybody’s okay,” she assured me. Relief flooded over me.

“Thank-you,” I whispered to the heavens as I began to walk back to the side of the road.

“You’re welcome,” I heard the woman say behind me. But when I turned around, she was gone.

At that moment, all I felt was a rush of indescribable peace.

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