Distinct Claity

By Elizabeth Pownall

When an accident first occurs everything happens so fast that it all seems blurry, but later, when you think back to it you can remember each moment with distinct clarity.

Each scream pierced the air and the other car skidded to the right, over the embankment as our own vehicle took three full spins before the driver's door smashed into a worthless tree.

The eerie silence as I looked over at him; knowing what I would see, but hoping anyway. The way I gasped at the sight of him, how my voice trembled when I breathed his name.

The way his eyes never opened; the subtle movement of his chest, which gave me little comfort. The blood gushing from his head, where it slammed against the window, forever imprinted on my brain.

When I had first looked away from him out the windshield my head spun, but now, as I think back, the image is as clear as day.

The thick crack right through the center shocked me, but my eyes didn't linger. The golden leaves flitted across the empty road as my gaze moved to the embankment. Everything was still. I hoped to see someone from the other vehicle, but there was nothing.

When I grabbed the cellphone from my pocket the blue bar of battery blinked back at me, mocking me; reminding me that he was about to die as well. My fingers shakily pressed 9-1-1 and my breathing steadied as I brought the phone to my ear.

The call connected instantly and the sickly sweet voice sound to my ears made my stomach churn.

"I…I've been in a car accident." I didn't think to assess myself for injury until the woman asked about my condition.

I mentally went over each part of my body not noting anything serious, just deep soreness; but I couldn't tell if that was from the accident itself or from knowing that there wasn't much time.

The operator stayed on the line with my, but I didn't speak, instead I glanced back at him. The phone dropped from my hand when I couldn't see him breathing.

 I hesitantly raised my shaking hand to his neck, not daring to breathe for fear I'd be wrong. The subtle thump under my pointer finger lifted my spirits slightly, but I dropped my head into my hands and sobbed.

He didn't have much time left and I feared that help was too far away. I went to unbuckle myself, but the button was jammed. I tried again, more forcefully, but it wouldn't budge. Tears of frustration and despair rolled down my face.

I reached my hand out to his head and stretched in my seat trying to stop the bleeding on his head. I bit my bottom lip, holding in a sob when my hands touched the sticky blood.  I leaned closer in my seat, covering the entire wound just as I heard sirens in the distance.

I went to breathe a sigh of relief, but held it back not wanting to get my hopes up. A police car arrived first followed closely by an ambulance. More sirens were not far off, but I was focused more on trying to cover his injury and the service people who were running toward our vehicle.

Someone yanked the door open and tried to pull me out, but the seat belt stopped them. Soon the belt was cut and they were dragging me out. I tried to fight them so I could help him, but I felt so weak and knew that they could help him better than I.

As they put me in an ambulance I saw two others carefully get him out and place him on a gurney with a neck brace. My stomach lurched as I watched more scurry over to him and they franticly moved around.

I sobbed as I watched the horrific sight before me. More ambulances arrived and those paramedics went to assist the people down the hill, but the main focus was on him.

At the time that all happened so fast, but now, as I read the newspaper in front of me, I thought back to the incident. Taking in each moment made it seem like an eternity of pain. Focusing on each event didn't help me get over the pain and it didn't matter that it was no longer blurry. It was probably worse to be able to focus each detail, but maybe, just maybe, I could get over this incident and move onto the next.