Not Okay [TW: Violence, Death]

I feel like paint that was left out for too long. A splash of dark red. The same color currently spreading across my sister's chest.

Southfield Freeway, Michigan.

May 3, 2014.

4:39 pm.

The hood of the car crumples like tin foil.

Glass shards fly everywhere.

I’m screaming and Kay’s screaming and I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. Something punches me in the face so hard I hear my nose break.

The car veers off the road and smashes into the railing. The world is ripped apart like wet paper, but it sounds like metal on metal. Pain spreads through my body, stabbing and twisting. There's a high-pitched ringing in my ears and my hands are covered in blood.

The car finally comes to a halt, and I am but a mass of blood and flayed skin. Where is my sister?

I fumble for the door handle, grappling with the airbag. The ringing in my ears is slowly fading and I hear screams coming from outside. Someone says “Is she alive?” They think I’m dead, but I’m not dead, I’m fine. I need to find Kay.

My shaking hands open the door and I fall out of the car. I get to my feet and see a cluster of people gathered around something in the street. Multiple cars are pulled over, blocking the intersection and creating a huge line of backup traffic.

A woman grips my shoulders and says something like are you okay? I nod and stumble toward the group. I shouldn't be able to move, but somehow I make my way to the front of the car.

“Kay!” I yell. "Where's Kay?" My voice makes some people look up. Many of them are crying. I shove my way to the front. Finally, I see what everyone’s looking at.

Kay is sprawled facedown in the middle of the street. Her dark brown hair fans around her head, and her purple shirt has fresh blood on it.

Her blood.

I fall to my knees. The world is black and empty and I can't see or hear or breathe or feel anything. I don't think I will ever feel anything ever again.

If I did, I don't think I'd be able to stand it.