TW: Mentions of sui*ide and death, scars (slight mention of SH ones), heavy injuries, and blood.
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The few amounts of people that I've talked to, family included, have always said I was an ugly crier. I couldn't shed demure tears like a Disney princess or silent ones like an action movie star. When I cried, it came out as equal amounts of mucus and tears mingling with the sweat on my face, heaving breaths akin to a choking goose, and hands white-knuckled digging into my arms as I rocked back and forth. A full-body ball of misery that decided to devolve in whatever area it decided to break down in. Oftentimes, it was in the comfort of a room or my truck.
Never before had it been in the middle of a cold road next to a cold body on a cold night.
The woman had passed too soon and so long ago, the life draining out of her like the blood that stained my hands and knees
The stages of grief ran through my brain like a stuttering film reel.
Denial left me disoriented. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. This wasn't happening. It couldn't have happened. I was essentially in the middle of nowhere, any source of life being whatever creatures were in the surrounding forest and the glittering city miles away. A random woman wouldn't be out here. Shouldn't be out here. Can't be out here. So naturally, I must've imagined her, right? Right?!
The anger came along with the realization that no- it was not right. What the fuck? seriously, what the actual fuck? Why was that woman out here? Why did she choose now of all times to walk out in the middle of the goddamn street and get hit by my truck? And then she rejects my desperate offers to help her- tells me to leave her to die all for some warped revenge against who the fuck knows? What kind of sense does that make?! Why did she have to go and involve me in this?! Why did she make me have her blood on my hands?! Why did she have to d- die?! It's not fair... It's not fair!
Bargaining put up a feeble fight. I- It's just not fair. It's not fair, not fair, not fair! Not to me, to her, to anyone! Why did she have to die? Such an injustice couldn't happen like this, right? There had to be a way to fix this, right? Whatever I had, I'd gladly give it up to any omnipotent being watching if they would allow me to turn back time to fix this. If I could swerve a bit more to the side and miss her. If I spotted her just in time and stopped my truck. Hell, if I never decided to drive down this road or even take this pickup! Any of these results in exchange to make it fair. To give us both the chance to come out of this unscathed. To have our fates pass by each other harmlessly instead of crashing disastrously.
The depression from this tragedy weighed me down like cement shoes in a frozen lake. This woman. This p- poor, unknown woman. I didn't even know her name, but the grief I felt for her made it feel like I had just lost an old, forgotten friend. She had struggled through life to the point of wanting to lose it, and it was by my hands that I granted her wish. It didn't matter if it was an accident or a mistake or even a lapse of judgment. Because a woman was dead and nothing was going to change that. Years of life, of memories and achievements and so much more- gone in a bone snaps length of time. Did she have people in her life who would mourn harder than me? Who would celebrate unlike me? I didn't know, and I probably never will...
I choked on a sob, phlegm and misery blocking my airway. The woman's lifeless body was blurred through my tears, yet the smile that rested at ease on her lips was clear. If it wasn't for her brutal injuries, I would've thought she was sleeping peacefully.
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