I walked. That was the only thing I could do. Nothing else mattered. Not the taste of blood in my mouth or the shards of glass protruding from my arms. Not even the screams. Oh God, those screams... they rang so loud that I thought my ears would burst. But I just kept walking.
I walked through the realization that it was in fact my throat that was calling forth this banshee's wail.
I walked through the realization that I would never see my family again.
I walked through the realization that it was my fault.
I walked. That was the only thing I could do, until I couldn't even do that anymore. The blackness was closing in, and this pressure in my chest would not let up. Not through though the blood now spilling forth from my lungs, nor the sparkling snowflakes that began to swim on the edge of my vision.
I fell. That was the only thing I could do. I wanted to cry, to deny, to defy God and this weak body that he had bestowed upon me, and more than anything else, my foolishness.
I fell through a million thoughts and memories, knowing they would soon be removed.
I fell into an increasingly ironic realization of the fragility and fleeting nature of life.
I fell silent, wondering what would come.
I laid there. That was the only thing I could do. My hand desperately trying to remain tight around the metal that bore into my chest. The sweet cold that spread from it like tendrils of ice, a chilling cancer that infected my being. No longer crying out; not in rage, nor fear, nor mourning.
I released. That was the only thing I could do. The feeling of the seams bursting, and my soul no longer being contained in this body. I could see the crumpled heap of car behind my now still body; the crimson trail staining my victory march into the pavement; the stoplight above shining a spotlight onto my final act. And the brilliant light, beautiful and terrifying, past it all, through the edges of reality, calling me forth with its sweet voice of angels.
I walked. That was the only thing I could do.
