Through Sickness and Heath

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She couldn't hear her own screaming over the shattering glass and crunching metal. She would have never expected the immense strength that came with car on car impact. Donnie could see through the passenger window that the other driver was gone, and it seemed that it would be her job to find them. With the sounds of a car crash, police sirens always followed, but not this time. But what business did she have driving on a dark road surrounded by miles of forest? Donnie was on her way to meet her husband in Greystone Park, the mental hospital. All she could think on her drive there was; after ten years he should be better. Please be better. But now, it seemed most appropriate that her concern be placed on herself. Twisting her limbs out of the tangled wreck of a car took up more time and precision than she would have expected. Things like this didn't happen to Donnie; bad things like this were avoided. Crawling out of the Chevy windshield, her bare arms caught on every sharp surface possible. Finally she met the cold yellow lines that separated her from the other victim. One broken foot in front of the other much luckier foot, she made her way to the crumbled white car. She was prepared to search the whole pile of folded metal until she found what she was looking for. If the situation was switched, she would expect the same. But, after numerous unsuccessful minutes it was eminent that her hands would not be closing around any arms or reaching for any grasping fingers. She was searching for someone that wasn't there. But how could that be? Nobody just gets up and walks away from something like this, not this fast. Donnie lifted her torso and scanned the outskirts of the forest, it was a clear night, she had to see something. Nothing was there, nobody stood ahead, nobody was caught crawling away. She was completely alone, from what she could see. And she was starting to realize just how unfortunate that was.

Not only was the full moon spotlighting her every move, the quiet night emphasized her every breath. If there was someone out there, they wouldn't have a problem finding her. The realization of her vulnerability seeped into her mind. What was she going to do if something attacked her- kick them away with her broken foot? Guard herself with her mangled arm? She breathed in daggers as she stumbled across the street once more. Just find your cell phone. She crawled onto the folded front seats and yanked open a glove box. Nothing. She felt beneath the torn seat. Something. Donnie closed her fingers around the plastic, smearing blood onto the screen and keys as she dialed.
“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”
“Um- uh.”
“Ma’am? Is everything okay? I hear something in the background? Where are you?” The woman said. Something in the background? What was she talking about? Donnie must have been holding the phone to close to her ear; she checked the screen, full volume of course.
“Be quiet please.” Donnie’s voice shook into the phone, sliding the volume button down. The air caught in her lungs. Breathing was too loud in the soundless night. She listened for as long as her patience allowed her. “I don’t hear any-“Crunch. “Wait I hear-“Eeech. “It sounds like a-“
The deep voice breathed heavily into her ear, “Chainsaw?”

There was no use explaining to the woman on the other, luckier, side of the phone what that there was no use trying to help, Donnie was a goner. With her hand still clutched around the useless piece of technology, she struggled to hang up the call. First it was the speaker button, which amplified the woman’s voice. Then it was the mute button that put her in more of a panic. Then finally she pressed the red button. (Which was a bit of a metaphor considering this stranger was about to do the same to her.) Her hands were still shaking and held tight around her phone, the only explanation would be to feel some sort of comfort. Maybe someone would call and make the man’s hand freeze before it reached her mouth. But nobody did, and his hand continued snaking its way up to her arm, then her neck (giving it a warning squeeze, as if to say “Don’t tempt me.”) His finger tips curled around her lips, covering them.
“I knew ten years without you was too long.”
To be Continued...

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