12:00 am. and the feelings that casted over my body from the accident haunt my spirit, gripping my soul, as if I was the one at death’s door. Surely this couldn’t be true; I am the survivor. I remember the boy’s position right before the crash between our cars. He was rather young and wore a school uniform along with dull, average features that rested upon his face. His face wasn’t the only dull thing, even the weather had been gloomy and foggy, surely another reason I didn’t see his turn. I can’t remember how I got home, but I know that boy is dead because I am the survivor. My bed sheets are not very comforting in this situation either, given that they are cold along with my room. I am so restless, it’s almost like the guilt consumes every inch of my anatomy, but this was an accident. Guilt is normal in man-slaughter of course. I’m still curious as to how I got home. If it’s 12:00 am., and the accident happened six hours ago, what happened in that frame time? I blacked out, I must have. Was I questioned? An accidental murder is still murder, so am I on trial? The news should have reported it, right? My phone suddenly buzzes on my nightstand beside me. The phone is extremely cold, but it’s the middle of June. A notification began to pop up and read: 

     Intersection Accident between 1st and 44th Ave late Friday afternoon. 

     This was where it happened. The article of the report has more, this should surely explain what happened. 

     Crash between a young, male highschool student and a man possibly in his early thirties. The     

     identity of the male is unknown due to the effects of the crash. The body was immediately    

     pronounced dead. The man was severely distorted and disfigured, and the identification is still 

     being analyzed. The high school student, Arthur Kim, Is receiving medical assistance and will 

     survive, given the current treatment of the injuries. His parents are grateful for his recovery.

     This couldn’t be true? I see my room, I feel my room. I survived. I’m here right now. The cold shivers invade my skin and begin to increase due to the text from the articles, rather than the temperature of the room now. I quickly stand up and rush to the door of my room. My body now uncontrollably shakes, my eyes shifting around the dark space. I began to shake the door handle but it’s locked. There’s not even a lock on the door anymore as there once was. Trapped in this space of darkness, coldness, and emptiness, I begin to realize my fate. Every inch of the space around me is warped with black. I thought it was nighttime. I thought it was just the cool, summer night breeze haunting my body, my phone, my bed sheets, and the area around me. I thought I blacked out after the accident, but I see my situation. Death now haunts me and traps me in this unit. My soul lay here and my lasting mark on the world now vanished due to the grotesque image of my scraps of flesh once mangled in a car and now put to rest. I wish I could lie to myself and convince myself the article was wrong, but everything makes sense. 

I was not the survivor.