NARRATIVE

Essay by PaperNerd ContributorCollege, Undergraduate September 2001

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12:27 am December 1, 2000 I am awakened by an uncomfortable wetness on my legs and chest. My head is pounding, I cannot open my eyes, something is dripping down my face, and there is an intense pain in my right shoulder. I sit still for a few moments trying to gather my thoughts this proves to be very difficult as my mind races through all the possibilities then it dawns on me I am in my car, off the road, in the woods, late at night, it is well below freezing, and I'm lost.

Reaching for my cellular phone I twinge from the pain radiating down my arm, something is not good on my right side I grab the phone with my left and begin pressing the search button. Becca is the first name to appear on my screen I press send and hear the ringing begin after three or so rings the phone is answered, " hello " it's Rebecca," hey, buddy I think I might be in trouble" " what happened?" " Well, I've been in an accident I'm bleeding all over the place and I don't know where I am! " "All right calm down and look around do you see anything?" "House lights" " go to the house you have to find out where you are" " okay I'll call you back" Walking towards the light of a house, a strong 20 mph wind is blowing in my face my eyes start to water mixing with the blood making it harder to see by the second.

I reach a driveway and start to walk up the steep winding incline towards certain warmth and presumably help I am moving very slowly. Suddenly the wind isn't biting at my ears I open my eye's just a hair more than a squint, the blood is starting to harden making even this amount of vision laborious, and am somewhat relieved because I have entered a garage a wave of relief washes over me. I start to feel along the wall for the entrance to the house that rests just on the other side or does it. Of course not I am never that lucky, after several minutes pass and I haven't made any progress I start to feel nauseous and decide I'll just rest for a couple of minutes.

Laying on the cement floor my mind starts to wander and I begin to recount my nights activities: bowling league: free drink at the bar: driving home: ah yes the drive home, I remember headlights appearing in my rear view mirror so bright, and as close to my bumper As close to my rear bumper as they can get without smashing into me. I hate this practice of tailgating but my exit is approaching quickly and I have to decide if I will take the highway or the back roads home.

With lights blinding me from behind I curse the driver and turn off to take the back road home.