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There is no noise.
Only the tires scraping along the road.
I am shaking.
I am screaming
No noise is coming.
Accompanied by the screaming inside my own head.
My head should be lying on a pillow in bed.
My hand should be wrapped around your sweater in bed.
My face is burning, my hands run to my face.
Running, I wish I was running.
We are not driving.
We are crashing.
I can hear windows crashing
“We need a crash cart she’s crashing.”
I can’t hear anything except ringing.
Ringing, the phone is ringing. Someone answer.
“I’m sorry there’s been an accident. They were driving... and they never stopped driving.”
I can feel my chest crushing.
I am crying,
But no tears run down my face,
Instead, hot stinging pain takes its place.
My head is rushing.
What do I do?
I can’t breathe.
Breathe. I need to breathe.
Focus on breathing.
Foul language leaps out my mouth too easily.
Like it’s been waiting inside.
Waiting there, what is waiting there?
Why are we waiting here?
We need to move hurry
Hurry I am hurt
Am I hurt?
Are you hurt?
I don’t know. I can’t see.
I can not see.
My eyes are wide taking in everything in sight,
But I can not see.
I can not breathe.
My lungs deflate and inflate sporadically.
But I can not breathe.
I can not hear.
RInging, tires scraping, engines humming,
But I cannot hear.
I can not speak.
‘Oh’s and ‘my’s and ‘god’s and ‘fuck’s escape my mouth in a quick lick of gasps and breaths,
But I can not speak.
I can not feel.
My white knuckles wrap around themselves, in my leg, gripping the fabric, running up to my face,
But I can not feel.
Would this have happened, if I were behind the wheel?
It lasted five seconds.