Glass.
A shower of
Beautiful, glittery
Shards.

Red.
Red is everywhere,
Though I can’t
See the source.

I feel my head.
The redness
Flows down my arm.
The red is mine.

The noise of
The people screaming
Outside the Altima
Is too much to handle.

I close my eyes
To take a nap.
This isn’t real.
Just before I drift into
An excruciating sleep,
I hear an ambulance wail.

I wake up to beeps
An wires, a bunch
Of people dressed in blue
With medical masks
Obscuring my vision
Of their noses and mouths.

They peer at me with
Sorrowful looks on
Their stupid faces.

I don’t need pity, I think.
Wait. What are they pitying me for?
Why am I here?

The flashes come in waves.
The glass.
The red.
I’m hyperventilating now.

What happened to Kassidy?
Where is she?
I try to sit up, but
Pain surges through me.
I flop back down.

I look at them,
Hoping that they can see
The question in my eyes,
What happened to
The other people I was with?

They look at me,
Exchange looks with each other,
Then back at me.
“We are so sorry, Miss Correll.”

I look at them.
Confused.
“W-what?”
I manage to get out.

“Your friend, and her mother.
Your friend, Kassidy is it?
Is badly hurt and in ICC.
Her mother…”

Her voice falters.
She clears her throat
And starts again.

“Her mother is in a
medically-induced coma
At a hospital two hours from here.

I don’t know what to do.
“We’ll give you some
Time To compose
Yourself.”

I hadn’t realized
I’d been crying.
I wipe my tears,
Feeling like a
Dumb baby.

I fall asleep for the
Second time because
I’m feeling nauseous
As they shoot me with
More meds.