Car accident through a child's perspective.
Start writing a post
Student Life

Like A Soda Can Part 2

The Collision that changed everything.

78
Like A Soda Can Part 2

I can't get into it. It is like the noises from the cars zooming by are distorting my voice as I try to open the password journal. "Intruder Alert!" it screams, but I keep trying, my head and eyes focusing on the journal. Why is it not recognizing my voice?

BAM!

Man, Daddy hit the truck really hard. He must be extremely upset with Nikki. I am afraid and don't want to look up from the journal, but the feeling I have deep down in my stomach is telling me I need to. I look up very slowly and see the cracked windshield, and now tears are flowing down my face. Something is wrong. The blurriness from crying blind me from finding the release button for my seatbelt. A woman opens my door.

"My dad's boss is going to be mad at him. When he hit the truck, it broke the windshield."

"Don't worry about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I kick off my left flip-flop. I can't find the right flip-flop as I get out of the truck, so I decide to ditch the other one. I don't need it anyway.

"Oh, no sweetheart, put your flip flops back on. You don't need to be walking out here barefoot."

I listen to her and quickly find both flip-flops. I am afraid to be in the truck even though nothing can hurt me from the inside of it. After I find them and put them on my feet, I follow her to her car. A policeman is arriving at the scene. I look around, not really sure of what's happening. I notice a worn five-dollar bill on the ground near the policeman. Reaching down and picking it up, I walk closer to him.

"Excuse me, officer," I whisper, "I found this on the side of the road, here you go."

He gives me a huge smile, "That is very sweet of you, but you keep it." He wraps his arm around me, and asks, "would you follow me to my vehicle? You can sit there, so you are comfortable."

I follow him and sit down in the front seat."Is there anything in the truck you need?"

"No," I blurt out; the thought of going back to that truck horrifies me. The policeman walks away. The steady clicking of the lights in the car sends me into some sort of hypnotic state. All I can do is listen to it. The lady who helped me out of my dad's vehicle came back to me, and I realize I lost track of time.

"How are you doing? The policeman wanted me to come and check on you. He told me there looks like a violin or something in the front seat of the truck. Do you need it?"

"Oh, yes. Can I grab it? I need it for school tomorrow."

She replies that it is fine, and I get out of the vehicle. Looking down at the ground to be safe where I was walking, I notice the weeds are so high they nearly touch my knee. I resist the urge to itch my leg as I walk to the truck. I feel my heart beginning to beat faster as I approach my dad's vehicle. I reach the passenger door and open it up quickly, grab the violin; then as I am shutting the door that is when I see it. I see a black or dark blue crushed car. It looks like a Coke can that someone placed on the ground and crushed before throwing it in the trash can. I turn away and rush back to the policeman who is walking towards me.

"I am taking you to a gas station where your grandma is going to pick you up. I will, of course, stay with you until they get there."

Report this Content
This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
houses under green sky
Photo by Alev Takil on Unsplash

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Keep Reading...Show less
​a woman sitting at a table having a coffee
nappy.co

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

Keep Reading...Show less
Student Life

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life.

90947
college students waiting in a long line in the hallway
StableDiffusion

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Keep Reading...Show less
a man and a woman sitting on the beach in front of the sunset

Whether you met your new love interest online, through mutual friends, or another way entirely, you'll definitely want to know what you're getting into. I mean, really, what's the point in entering a relationship with someone if you don't know whether or not you're compatible on a very basic level?

Consider these 21 questions to ask in the talking stage when getting to know that new guy or girl you just started talking to:

Keep Reading...Show less
Lifestyle

Challah vs. Easter Bread: A Delicious Dilemma

Is there really such a difference in Challah bread or Easter Bread?

63685
loaves of challah and easter bread stacked up aside each other, an abundance of food in baskets
StableDiffusion

Ever since I could remember, it was a treat to receive Easter Bread made by my grandmother. We would only have it once a year and the wait was excruciating. Now that my grandmother has gotten older, she has stopped baking a lot of her recipes that require a lot of hand usage--her traditional Italian baking means no machines. So for the past few years, I have missed enjoying my Easter Bread.

Keep Reading...Show less

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Facebook Comments