Memoir

Amy Miller

Mr. Schelle

English 111

Oct. 9 2009

Naïve No More

            “Is she breathing?” I try to scream but it comes out as a whisper. I can’t even see her face because of the crimson river of blood. The driver looks horrified and is hovering over her protectively. I can tell she’s not breathing and my mind is racing. How did this happen? Why didn’t I see them? This can’t be real. But it is.

            It was August 21, 2009. I had just finished a great morning volleyball practice. It was Friday, which meant it was the last day of two a days and I felt on the top of the world. I was a high school senior, I was kicking butt in two a days, I was the person to be. After my practice I went home and saw that my cocker spaniel had an ear infection so I called my mom to let her know. I decided to take a nap before my next practice. I fell asleep on my bed with a peaceful humming in my brain.

            My Garth Brooks ring tone slipped into my dream and I woke up to my mom on the phone. The vet was about to go to lunch so I needed to hurry and get my dog there. I left my house singing to the radio with the windows rolled down. I turned onto the back roads and laid the hammer down. It was 11:40 and I needed to get my pet to Paonia by 12:00. I knew I could make it. My red car chased down vehicles and passed them with ease. I had confidence in my driving, and my car was a lightening machine. After all, I knew wrecks only happened to other people, I was invincible; I was Amy Miller.            

            My beast of a car was in the town of Paonia by 12:00 but I still needed to go a couple miles west to get to the Vet’s office. I was jammin’ out to some hard rock and stopped at the stop sign at an intersection. I looked right then left then went. That’s when it happened. I saw the van a split second before I clipped it. I didn’t scream or swerve; there wasn’t enough time for that. My car hit and turned to the left 45 degrees. As soon as I felt the impact I looked over my left shoulder to the van. For a bit all I could see was dirt, then I saw a woman’s upper half flinging out the side passenger window. The next thing I remember was seeing that the van had stopped sliding down the highway of death. I flung open my door and tried to get my shaking legs to run towards the body. The van was roughly 100 yards from the initial wreck. I’m positive my face had a look of shock. I stopped at the stop sign, I wasn’t speeding, I wasn’t on my phone, and I looked both ways… This can’t be happening to me.

She was face down on the pavement. Neither she nor the passenger had their seat belts on, and they were both ejected from the van. I could see the blood pooling around her head. My mind registered that she was dead even before I asked. Call it intuition call it a negative attitude, but I knew. I asked the driver in a dazed confusion if he had called 911. He looked up with emptiness in his eyes. His mouth could not form words so he simply nodded his head yes. I look up to a woman with a stethoscope wrapped around her neck. She was local EMT who happened to be at Stop N’ Save, the store located 15 yards away from the wreck. When she came racing out my brain was fooled into thinking for a split second, “It’s a miracle she can save her!” but then I remembered all the blood and knew that it was too good to be true. They held her spine steady and rolled her onto her back. The blood seemed so wrong covering her peaceful face. The EMT got on her cell phone and called 911 to see if she should start CPR. I hear her say that the passenger is a 26-year-old female. Twenty-six… Barely starting her life… and now it could be over. The EMT started CPR while I stood dumbly watching. For once in my life I felt hopeless. There was nothing I could do… obviously I had already done enough by causing the accident. After three minutes I tore my eyes away from the already gone angel and walked back to my car. I got onto my phone and called my mom. I don’t remember what I said, I just heard her say she’d be there soon. It was the only relief I felt that day.

            A woman by the name of Sarah came to my aid. I don’t know why she was nice to me, I don’t know why she came to talk to me, but on that day I’m sure of one thing: God sent her to me. She told me to not talk to the police until my mom showed up. That’s when the thought of jail hit me. Jail… me? I’m an “A” average student, an all-conference volleyball player, one of the few who doesn’t drink in my grade, and I could possibly go to jail. The thought was diminished however when I remembered the innocent woman lying on the pavement. I hit the ground and prayed. My whole heart and soul was focused on praying. I wanted her to live, more than anything. I wanted God to take the painful breath from me and give it to her. I wanted my heartbeat to keep hers going. Out loud I prayed she would live, that God would take my life instead. I wasn’t being righteous; I just knew I couldn’t deal with killing someone. The lights flashed and greatened my confusion. Someone told me that they were going to flight for life her, I don’t remember whom; honestly, I don’t remember much of anyone but her. My lips were constantly moving in hopeless begging and pleading. My mind repeated the image of her body half way out of a moving death machine. From that day on my memory would be my worst enemy.

            My mom showed up about half an hour after my wreck. The EMT’s were checking my spine she first caught glimpse of me and I saw that her first expression was dead fear. She came running toward me like we were in a sad slow motion movie. She held me and my sobbing was so intense that my vision became tunneled from lack of oxygen. It felt like I was the motionless body instead of the passenger. My mom made me walk over and sit into the ambulance. I had to try and stop crying because my heart rate was so high that the EMT’s were worried I’d have heart failure; which wouldn’t help the already terrible situation. They were telling me to calm down and to myself I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me, I just killed someone and you expect me to calm down!” But somehow the sobbing stopped and the normal breathing began. Just as I’d stopped crying Mr. Hintz walked into the ambulance. I broke down again. I was so scared that no one would love me and the first thing he did was give me a hug. I couldn’t believe everyone was being so supportive after I’d killed someone. I realize now that everyone else knew people made mistakes, but I was lacking in that part of my emotional development. As I turned my weary head I caught glimpse of my dad’s stern face. This was what I had been dreading. My dad doesn’t make very many mistakes so he expects other people not to as well. He stepped in with a cold look on his face, said I’m glad you’re ok, and walked out to talk to the police. He figures out logical steps and doesn’t deal well with emotions. I guess that’s where I get it.

 A grief counselor, along with the police, asked me a couple questions and then I was finally released from the ambulance. We left the cursed place and started heading to the car. My best friend CeCe had heard about the wreck and was waiting by my mom’s car to see me. She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel the love radiating off of her. I never wanted to let go. We held onto each other and cried; we cried about the woman’s death, we cried for fear of losing each other, we cried for being grateful of each other. After our tears had stopped flowing we parted and my mother and I got into the car to head home. I checked my cell phone and had dozens of text messages and missed calls. The first person I called was my sister, she was grateful I was alive, but she also couldn’t believe this happened to me. Our family wasn’t bad, so we never assumed something bad would happen to us.

After I arrived home I sat on the couch in a dazed stare… I finally had accepted this was really happening. I replayed the accident countless times in my head, questioning my every move that afternoon. Dozens of friends and family friends came to my side that evening, full of shock and questions. My grandparents came up and I was surprised to find them calm and rational. Throughout time they had seen enough to know bad things do happen to good people. Something I didn’t want to accept. After the house calmed down I collapsed on the couch with my mom. She couldn’t seem to let me go that day. The possibility of death was too close earlier for parting words now. Around one in the morning I finally fell asleep. I dreamt of her body flailing out of the car, of her bloody face, and the man’s sobs. When I woke up I realized that nightmare was my new reality.