He grasped onto my hand, clutching for safety as we both watched the headlights of a big steal monster slam into the passenger side of my car. I inhaled the gasoline haze of air while glass rained down on my skin. Flailing my body I turned to comfort him, to protect his blue eyes from the destruction I had caused, but he no longer sat in my passenger seat. An apparition of the pain he brought with him. Screeching tires and airbags puffing out their chests like this was some sort of twisted wet t-shirt contest.

A contorted competition between the boy who ripped my heart out and the truck that nearly killed me. I sat in the piles of crystallised terror and waited for it all to end. I waited for this mechanical beast to swallow me whole. I don’t know what it feels like to die but he held his hand underneath my chin, as he whispered:
“I don’t love you anymore”
And that’s when the truck hit me.