She stopped speaking after the accident.
Not because she damaged her vocal chords. Not because she chose to. It's because she was the one who was driving. Because she was the one who killed her best friend of 15 years. She was the one who took her life before it was due. No one blamed her for it of course. They knew it wasn't her fault that the drunk driver decided to run the red light. Hitting the passenger side door straight on. Crumbling the frame onto her fragile body. They said she didn't stand a chance.
It wasn't her fault. But that doesn't make the pill of guilt any easier to swallow. She feels it in every fiber of her body. Feeling heavy as her body remembers the crunch of metal on metal and metal on skin. She cried for six days straight after hearing the news. Allowing inaudible sobs to reach the surface. Burying the rest of her voice as she is afraid of what will come out.
She looks out the window as she lives in her self-imposed silence.
If only I was a little more careful.
She thinks.
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
To Write or Not to Write
AcakIf a rock plops into a river... And if there is no one there to hear it. How do we knew if it hits the bottom? How do we know if it didn't throw itself back out? Or flow down the stream? Or... Does everything just hits rock bottom? Like me. ...
