I’m riding down the road in my car. Everything seems so normal. I completely disregard the fact that in my passenger seat is my brother-in-law who I have never once given a ride to before. The edges of my vision shimmer. I do not know where I am going, where I came from, or where I am at any given moment. What I do know, is a car has pulled out in front of me, and it’s too icy to stop.
I fade back into consciousness. I am upside down, hanging, a hard length pressed into my chest. It takes me a moment to realize I am still inside the mangled vehicle. We have capsized. I struggle to free myself from the strap holding me to the mutilated mass of metal, but my fingers are too broken to comply. I suddenly remember I was not alone. I look to my right, and lock eyes with my brother-in-law. He is dead. His body, free within the cavity of the car from lack of restraint, is shattered; skin lacerated and viciously leaking.
It seems in ample time I am briskly pulled from the wreckage. The snow has begun to melt making me wonder just how long our vesicle had been breached. As I am ushered away I hear murmurs of a third body. My heart stops. Breaking the hold of my rescuer I make my way back to the scene. No one stops me. No one cares. I bend down and gaze into the back seat and promptly vomit down my front. Within a crushed car seat I see the remains of my three year-old niece; her neck twisted in such an unnatural position. It had snapped in the collision. I reach out to her, but a glint catches my eye and my hand reaches for this instead. It is a small mirror that was once mounted on the baby’s car seat. I look into its vast depths. My only sister’s sullen face looks back.
(And let the Prozac deprived nightmares begin. Wonderful.)