Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Chapter 53 Catching fire

Destruction lies upon me, landscaping the land in gore, glass, and gasoline. Among the sea of glass, is another vehicle which lays on its side. The windows are shattered and an orange glow starts to billow from the motor of the vehicle.

It's catching fire....

A little, scraped hand lies limply out of the shattered window, and I know it is a child's hand.

No no no no!

Guilt immediately tears at me as I think quickly.

The fire grows quickly as it mixes with the gasoline.

My eyes dart around and I scream in pain as I drag myself across the pavement that has been warmed by the sun. I can't walk, my right leg is bent at an odd angle and my left leg has been ripped to shreds by glass.

I do my best to reach the injured child in hopes to saving a life that night. When I finally do reach the child, I grip his hand and attempt to pull him out.

But he doesn't move.

He's stuck between the window that is half shattered, and raising a weak fist, I try to smash the rest of the window in, but it's no use. I pull my bloodied fist back and cry.

His hand is limp in my own and I cry in frustration and desperation. "Come on, baby. Please, please be okay." I beg through tears as I do my best to save the child.

But the fire soon roars with intensity, and I don't even hear the low hum of a motorcycle as it pulls up to the crash scene. A man with brown hair and piercing blue eyes steps out from the motorcycle and drags me away, kicking and screaming.

"No! I-I have to h-help them!" I scream, hot tears flowing down my cheeks and dripping down onto the pavement below. I don't even release my nose is broken until it starts to burn in protest.

The man holds me firmly against his leather jacket, obviously being careful not to injure me any further.

But I don't care about me, I care about the withering lives stuck in the vehicle, because obviously, if that hand is a child's, then an adult has to be in there, too.

He lays me down on my back carefully on the pavement, and looking me dead in the eye, his low, deep voice commands, "Do not move. Any further movement could kill you. Help is on the way."

I'm speechless when he runs over to the burning vehicle, and pulling out a gun from his waistband, he rams the butt of the pistol into the what's left of the glass window.

He coughs when the smoke enters his lungs, but that doesn't stop him from pulling out the child, no older than maybe eight years old, out of the carnage.

Sirens are heard in the distance, becoming closer....

Closer....

Closer....

My head lolls weakly to the side and my fading eyes watch as the unknown man lays the child down on the ground and checks his pulse. I beg God that he is alive. That there is a chance. I couldn't live with myself if lives died from my hands.

But the man glances up at me, some tendrils of his hair falling into his stunning eyes.

He stares at me for a moment, his gaze holds no emotion as he suddenly gets up and flees the scene. The sound of his motorcycle dies as it fades into the distance.

Blue.

Red.

Blue.

Red.

Those lights blind my eyes and the shouts of voices fill my ears. They flash, painting my body and everything around us blue and then flickering to red, over and over again. I hear the quick, nearing footsteps as help approaches.

I sob weakly when paramedics fall to my side. They speak words but all I can see is their lips moving and their brown and hazel eyes concerned yet....calm.

I hear a voice that drowns out all the commotion around me, and it takes me a moment to realize that the voice belongs to me.

I'm screaming. Shouting. Begging.

My eyes dart around, and I see the burning vehicle being put out by firemen. I see the little bundle of a child on the pavement. He too, is surrounded by paramedics. I can barely make out another body being dragged from the vehicle when suddenly, I'm lifted onto a board.

Pain racks my entire body and I cry out loudly in pain. The paramedics hurry me into the ambulance, and the last thing I see before they shut the doors is the little bundle on the ground being swaddled in a body bag.

I thrash around and become hysterical when I realize what I've done.

This is my fault.

The paramedics speak to each other and I catch a glimpse of a long needle in one of their gloved hands. Soon, I find it being buried into my arm and it isn't long before everything around me fades and I plunge into a sea of ink.

* * *

From the moment my heart monitor woke me up, I was alone. From the moment my eyes met with the blinding lights of the hospital's ceiling, I was alone.

I had no visitors.

The only visitors I had were cops, questioning me. And the cops never left, either. They were outside my door because I had broken the law and now I must face court and a prison sentence.

But right now, those are the least of my worries.

Everything hurts. My body, my mind but....mostly my heart. It aches with pain for what I've done and my soul seems to shun me as guilt eats me alive and drives me to the brink of insanity. Every night, the nurses have to sedate me because I cannot sleep.

On the rare occasion that I do end up sleeping, I wake up screaming from the nightmares that my guilty conscious gives me.

My lung was nearly punctured. My right leg was broken, as was my nose. My ribs were crushed, and I have extensive bruising everywhere as a dislocated wrist.

Deep wounds from the glass have been stitched up, and are surely going to leave long, nasty scars across my abdomen and back.

But none of that matters now.

What matters is the lives that have been lost because of me. I found out the driver of the car was the boy's grandmother. They were driving back from the movie theater when I struck them. Both lives were lost.

So, I deserve this.

I deserve this pain.

I deserve this loneliness.

I deserve no sleep.

I deserve hell.

And my pain was only added on when all I received was a card from my family. It said, Dear Lily, we are ashamed of the choices you have made. We are relieved you're alive, but we will see you during your court hearing. See you soon, mom & dad.

Underneath the note, was Owen's signature.

My eyes fill with tears and I crumple the note in my hands. I cup both my hands together and bury my face into them. My shoulders shake from the sobs I produce.

Even my family has abandoned me.

My heart monitor beeps faster when suddenly, rage overtakes me. I take the not and rip it into pieces before throwing it onto the floor. My breathing becomes more rapid as a panic attack takes over.

Can't....breath....I-I...I d-don't understand I.....

I writhe around on the hospital bed, gasping for air as choked screams escape my dry lips. Everything seems to be closing in on me and I can't escape.

The door of the room swings open and nurses are quickly by my side, injecting me with another sedative of some sorts.

No...no more needles! No more drugs! No more....

But I'm powerless when they hold my thrashing limbs down and insert the tip of the needle into the center of my arm. Everything spins and their grip on me releases only when they see me weakening and fading.

I'm soon still. My eyes can't focus on anything in particular and my head rolls around weakly. I don't even release it when the drugs grab me and drag me through the dark abyss.

Alone.

* * *

I don't remember much more of my time in the hospital as I was either doped up on drugs of all sorts or asleep.

But what I do remember is the utter loneliness and depression that has made its home deep inside of me. When I was awake and sober, I was staring off into nowhere with nothing but the feeling of the bitter ache in my chest to torment me.

Eventually, though, I was well enough to be escorted out of the hospital and into the back of a police car. The drive was silent and long and silent tears slid down my cheeks.

When I arrived at the county jail, I was clothed in an orange jumpsuit and placed inside a holding cell until my court day arrives.

Look what I've done.

One mistake and now I must pay the price.

One mistake and now a mother grieves because of her lost child and mother.

One mistake and now a family is falling apart because of me.

The jail cell was lonely. I had made friends with a little jumping spider that has weaved its web across on of the bars. Perhaps the little guy is just as lonely as me. Perhaps I really am losing my mind among the mess I've created.

The only visitors I get is a guard who escorts me to the bathroom four times a day and serves me meals three times a day. Neither of us talk, we just interact in silence.

On the seventh day, the day before my court day arrives, my parents and boyfriend visits me. I sit in a small room on a chair, when Owen walks in. The door is locked behind him, and immediately, I get up to hug him.

I wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his chest.

But he does nothing of the sort.

He doesn't return the hug, but he does something that shatters my heart.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me away, shaking his head.

My bottom lip wobbles. "O-Owen?"

He wears a solemn face and shakes his head as he shoves his hands in the fronts of his jean pockets. "I can't, Lily." He says.

"What? What do you mean 'you can't?'"

He blows out a loud breath of air and looks me up and down. "Look at you. You're a prisoner now, Lily. You've committed a crime and face years in prison. This, what we have, it won't work. You've ruined it."

I rub my eyes in hopes that this is all some sort of a nightmare.

But it's not.

"I-I'm sorry, what? I don't understand," I chuckle nervously, "Stop messing with me."

His fists clench at his sides. "Yes you do understand. Open your eyes and awake from your denial. I'm breaking up with you, forget about me, because I will certainly forget about you."

"Owen..." I sob.

"No, Lily. Good luck in court because you're going to need it. But you and I? We are over. I can't have a girlfriend who is in prison for manslaughter. What would people think?" He says, his voice stern and his words hurting my heart.

My voice breaks. "Who cares what people th-"

"I care, Lily. I care," He says, pointing to himself, " And you....I do not know you anymore." He sends a hateful glare my way before leaving me alone. I stand there for a moment, shocked at what had just happened. Tears drown my eyes yet they do not spill.

I don't have time to recover when my mom and dad enter the room. My mom looks void of emotion and my dad looks livid.

The approach me.

"Mom, dad, I can ex-"

Slap!

I'm interrupted and shocked when my head whips to the side painfully. My cheek stings and my shoulders shake when a quiet sob leaves my lips. My dad had slapped me.

Pain surges through my heart. The emotional pain was worse than the physical, because the slap came from somebody who once called me his little princess. The slap came from somebody who I thought loved me. The slap came from somebody who is my family.

I felt betrayed.

I hesitantly meet his eyes again, and he glares at me.

"We are deeply angry at you, Lily Coleman." She spits, looking me directly in the eyes.

"Mom, I-"

"Hush, Lily." My dad commands. I cower back from him, feeling guilty because now I'm afraid of my own father.

"Lily, what you did was horrible. Do you realize how much you've tainted our family name?" My mom yells.

So this is what they're angry about.

I become angry. "So this is what this is about? You don't care about the lives that have been lost? You don't care that I'm going to be stuck in prison for years? You don't care about your own daughter, or even the family that is grieving right now because of me?"

My dad raises his hand again, and I flinch and back away. Upon seeing my reaction, he pulls his hand down and breaks eye contact with me.

So now they want to rule over me by fear.

My mom scoffs. "Stop being selfish. We won't ever pity you because now you have brought shame onto our family. From this day forward, we no longer have a daughter."

Her words break me and I fall to my knees, sobbing. Their footsteps fade away and I hear the door being slammed shut.

My heart hurts at the rejection, and now I have nobody.

I'm officially alone, my only companions being guilt and misery.