Our Bereavement (Completed)

The Driver

    I wake with his name in my mouth. Eric. The name feels familiar, but I can't place it. My eyes flutter open to bright lights washing away the comfort of the darkness. Pain comes trickling down my spine, rooting from my head to my arms, legs and hands. My fingers feel numb and there's an annoying pounding against my skull. My back feels as though it has been bent to its full extent.

    The dull ringing sound in my ears pierces through every coherent thought that I try to form, until all at once it hits me. It's a sudden realization of where I am and why. A white-walled hospital room, scrubbed of the tragedy and germs that is known to crawl all over in a place like this. I stare intently at one of the walls until the white starts to turn into the images that are flying through my mind. I see the steering wheel and the darkness all around. I feel the cold brush of the air coming in through the cracked windows. I smell the rain that has passed and the growing grass outside. I hear the screeching of my tires desperately trying to come to a halt. I taste the blood in my mouth and the terror daring to escape from my throat.

    Screams must have come from my mouth and brought me back to the room, but I heard nothing. Two nurses come rushing in muttering about checking on my vitals. I lay completely still as they poke and prod to make sure all is well.

    "You're awake," The red haired nurse says in my direction. I nod my head miserably. Yes, I am awake. I am awake and, the poor boy, Eric is not. Uncontrollable tears fall from my eyes and I look away from the two nurses.

    "Do you need anything?" The other nurse asks. Again I nod.

    "A glass of water please," I choke out between hysterical sobs. I watch her small hands grab a paper cup and fill it with water from the sink. She hands it to me and hastily walks out of the room after the red haired nurse towards the other needy patients waiting to be taken care of. I take a large swallow of the cold liquid. It tastes like dirty coins, but that could just be my own mouth.

    My trembling hands manage to set the cup down on the stand next to me. Tears are still falling in a steady stream down my face. I squeeze my swollen eyes shut and whimper at all of the pain.

    Murderer, My brain tells me. I feel anger spike up in my chest. The regret comes as a chaser and digs into my heart.

    Murderer, My brain shrieks louder. The anger now making my body hum. Anger that's completely directed towards myself. Why had I not slowed down or taken another road home? Why had I not come the other way?

    Murderer, My brain screams once more. I roll over onto my side in sobs and continued to let my broken body quiver. I hate myself for this. How will I ever face his family? Would they forgive me?

    I suppose the real question is do I deserve to live with this on my conscious? It seems unthinkable; I took a child's life whom I had known since he was a baby. Someone that I had watched grow for nine years and took away the chance to become anything other than a kid. Who knew that only four hours ago I would kill someone by the spin of my steering wheel.