Dylan's hand was rubbing circles on my thigh.
"Can we go to Chipotle please pleeaasee?" I sounded like a 4 year old but I was obviously too drunk to care.
We pulled into the parking lot, and we got our food, and went back to the car.
We drive off toward his house, I posted a picture on Twitter- @SierraBabee: fucking love him {A/N~ probably a real acct idek sorry?}
The car was swiveling back and forth, but I didn't think anything of it. Not until I saw the train, at least.
The bright lights on the front were blinding. I covered my eyes with my forearms.
Then we got hit. It wasn't show motion like everyone says it is. My life didn't flash before my eyes. It was just black.
Black.
Black.
Black.
Nothing but darkness.
I was alive, and I could hear everything happening around me. But I couldn't move.
Was I alive?
I wasn't sure, and everything was nothing now.
Nothingness.
I couldn't hear, see, feel.
Then I was lifted.
This is it, this is how you died. Drunk in a car accident.
I pushed up and saw it. I was in heaven. I pushed open the doors, Dylan was standing there waiting for me, in a tropical paradise. There was none of the shit about purgatory either. Just straight up to heaven.
Suddenly, there was an enormous pain in my chest. "W-whats happening?"
Dylan let go of my hand, and I went spiraling downward. I heard the sounds of the emergency room, beeping, people crying, people rushing around and yelling, "We found a pulse!"
I wasn't in my body though, I was there, but not really there. I saw my mom slumped over my lifeless body, but my dad not anywhere to be seen.
The pain in my chest continued as they worked on me.
I blacked out, but then I felt again. I was back in my body. I couldn't open my eyes, and my entire body felt like lead. But I was alive.
There was a pipe running down my throat. It was extremely uncomfortable. When was I going to wake up?
I guess it was up to me. I tried, but there was no way. I tried to speak. Nope. I tried to blink. Nope.
*Four days later*
I was getting closer. I was either closer to death, or closer to waking up. I didn't know.
*28 days later*
I opened my eyes. There sat my mom. She's been here the entire time. I tried to smile, but nothing happened. I just sat there staring at her. She stared back at me, and the dark rings underneath her eyes were obviously present from lack of sleep.
"Sierra, oh baby. They said you'd never wake up. What were you thinking? Getting drunk, and then into a car?!" Her mood changed instantly from relief to anger. "You had me worried sick for 33 days! We thought you knew better than that! Your dad left he was so ashamed, hell I don't even know where he is at this moment! This family revolved around trust, and you tore it apart!" She spat insults at me one after another. I just lay there helplessly. Usually I would've come up with some badass comeback that would shut her up instantly. But here I was paralyzed, unable to do anything.
She left. She left me all alone. With just the beeping of the machines, and my broken arm.
