The window was down, letting the cool air in. The morning was dressed in beauty with the sun brilliant in glory. Silence were the passengers beside me, lost in thought. The road was open, no detours to change the way, and the tires eagerly moved forward to destination. And the cool air continued to flow in, serenity instead of fear.
My back pressed into the seat. If I were driving, I would have turned around, but I was only a passenger. My mouth opened for words to fall through, but nothing was said. There was nothing to say for no minds would be changed today. This was going to happen, and there was nothing for me to do. I was only a passenger.
The neighborhood was one out of television soaps and drama. Cars shined in driveways. Windows were open, letting life flow in and out like a gentle breath. Music echoed because after all, it was the weekend. Kids laughed and played on green, freshly cut lawns, breaking my heart.
We were getting closer now. Serenity could no longer hold back my walls of fear. Death was waiting in dark blue. The van picked up speed, and the road remained clear. I was never one wanting a car accident, but I begged for it now. Instead, we continued on, and she remained calm, in charge. No, there would be no changing her mind today.
The impact was hard, nearly knocking me from my seat. The seat belt tightened, holding me in place. My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. Tears stung my eyes, and my mouth snapped open. But no words could be said. There was only shock as the driver-side door snapped open, and she jumped to safety, full well knowing what she had just done.
The window was open, letting the water in. No cool breeze could save me now, and I was gasping for air. I struggled with the seatbelt, but it was stuck. Fear drenched me in sweat, and terror clung to a frantically beating heart. I was going under, and there was no stopping it. I had reached my destination, but if I was driving, she would have failed. But I was only a passenger.
My eyes snapped open. Warm sunlight streamed into a small bedroom with four, white walls. The mattress softened under my body as my head lifted from the pillow, and I reached down under the bunk bed, looking for her. My hand fell against her black fur, and my heart broke. I cried not for her but for them. I couldn’t save them. Their lives fell out of reach, so I cried harder, burying my face into the pillow to not alarm my parents. As I laid there with sorrow beside me, a cool breeze flowed through my open window.
About the Author:
Melissa R. Mendelson worked for the Smithtown Messenger Newspaper and its sub-issues, Brookhaven Review, Ronkonkoma Review, and Medford News as a newspaper reporter. She later freelanced for Hudson Valley’s Photo News and the film-making website, WildSound. Her short stories and poetry has been published online and in print, and her poetry was included in Names in a Jar: A Collection of Poetry by 100 Contemporary American Poets.
