Careful

                    I'll be careful.

                My mom died in a car accident ten years ago. So every time I get in a car, I freak out a bit. But it was late, and walking the four miles from my boyfriend Sam's house to mine in the dark? Probably not the best idea… 

                So I let him drive me home. And he promised he'd be careful. 

                You know what everyone says about fears? Face your fears, right? Face them, get over them, move on. Well getting in a car crash wouldn't really get me to "move on" from this fear.

                And you know what happens next, right?

                We were in the car. He was going 5 miles below the speed limit. But the car driving toward us, going 20 over, was on the wrong side of the road. The 5 miles didn't make a difference. As we crept up to the corner it was speeding around, we saw the headlights. 

                There was no time to avoid collision. There was nothing we could do.

                So they hit us. I could hear metal bending. Glass shattering, and falling to the street. The guy in the other car pushed open the door, got out, and fell to the ground. I looked over to Sam. He seemed ok, other than a cut on his forehead, a bruise down the side of his face, and a few scrapes. What scared me was the look on his face.

                I remember when the ambulance showed up. EMT's put the guy from the other car on a stretcher, and into an ambulance. They called to our car, asking if we were ok. I tried to respond, but nothing came from my mouth.

                He's upset that I'm hurt. And I'm hurt more than I know…

                When the EMT's pulled us from our car, they put us both on stretchers, and into an ambulance. Sam kept saying my name. But his voice got quieter and quieter…

                I thought it was him. He was drifting. But no. It was me. I was falling farther and farther into nothingness. And as I fell, I remembered something I've tried to forget…

                When my mother died in her car accident, she was the one driving drunk. She ran a red light at a busy intersection, and injured two people in the other car. When the paramedics showed up, they found two injured people in on car, and a dead woman in the other. The woman probably died instantly… And in the back of the woman's car, they found a seven-year-old girl… 

                And at that point, I'm told I died.

                There was a shock. It didn't hurt, but it surprised me. The second one hurt. And the third…

                What made matters worse was that I didn't know where I was. I hadn't yet opened my eyes, and nearby beeping hurt my ears. People were talking around me, but I couldn't figure out what they were saying. 

                When I finally did open my eyes, I saw white. White walls. White ceiling. White lab coats with faces staring at me. Someone said something, but my vision got bleary, and everything went dark…

                I met Sam in the hospital after the car crash. It was bring your son to work day, and his father was my doctor. Sam had a coloring book and a chocolate bar, half of which he gave me when the nurse wasn't looking. I told him about the crash, and he held my hand. We colored for an hour, before he had to go home. 

                I didn't see him again until the beginning of third grade, when we were both in the same class. We stuck together like glue. My father would send me to Sam's house on Saturdays while he went to work. We'd watch movies and play games…

                It wasn't until seventh grade that I realized I liked him. And it took another year for me to realize he liked me too. So when our friends asked why I didn't have a boyfriend, I said it was because the guy I liked needed to get up the nerve to ask me out. And in ninth grade, he did.

                Two years later, the reason we met might be the reason we say goodbye. He'd never forgive himself. I couldn't let that happen. I had to wake up. I had to…

                When I opened my eyes for the second time, Sam's bandaged face was the first thing I saw. He sat in a chair next to the bed, holding my hand. He'd fallen asleep, and so had my arm. I tried to move it gently, so I wouldn't wake him, but he's a light sleeper. He looked at me, and tears ran down his face.

                "I'm sorry,"

                Sam isn't one to cry. But at that moment, the boy was broken. He believed he had hurt the one thing that meant the most to him. And all he could do was whisper 'I'm sorry'. 

                But I knew it wasn't his fault. He tried so hard to avoid this. And I whispered back-

                "It wasn't your fault. It's ok,"

                He just stared at me. The look on his face screamed imsorryimsorryimsorry. Another tear fell, and I wiped it from his face.

                His father came into the room, and mine followed. They mentioned a concussion, but I wasn't paying attention. 

                Sam was getting something from his bag, and I wanted to see what it was. He pulled my table over me, and set a coloring book on it. 

                "Pick a picture to color while I find the chocolate bar,"

He pulled crayons from his bag, followed by the chocolate bar.