Burning

It was only a trip to my boyfriend's house. It was only a superficial drive, trying to cheer him up by showing up at his door. Trying to surprise him.

It had turned into so much more. I wasn't paying enough attention to the road, I'll admit that. I'll also admit that I should have seen that patch of black ice. I should have seen that hulking SUV coming the other way. I should have seen this coming.

But I didn't. I was young and foolish, sure that I was completely impervious to anything. I was so wrong. I'll never feel impervious again.

Unlike what people usually say, it wasn't a blur. It wasn't slow motion. I really do remember it. I say I don't, however. I never want to relive that moment, as I do whenever I describe it.

It was…horrific. There was such a lack of control; I hated that the most at first. The car's meager front-wheel drive couldn't handle the solidly frozen bit of black ice on the pavement. I lost control. For a few seconds, I don't think anyone could tell that something was wrong. I was on a straight in the road, and momentum let the car keep its course. I was going far too fast, of course, but that wasn't the greatest of my worries.

Four seconds later, a turn came up. I knew I'd go off the road. I'd had enough presence of mind to try to prepare myself for the crash. I tried to put my seatbelt on, but it wasn't moving. I was in shock. I couldn't die. I couldn't. I wouldn't. This wasn't my time.

In a haze, I tried one last option. The one that would directly change my life, just like this day. I opened the door, absurdly trying to escape this fate. Please don't give me a lecture about choices and what a stupid decision that was, and look where it's got me. It's over, don't preach. And I'm the one that has to live with the effects of it every day of my life. I was in a panic. I thought I was going to die. You try making good decisions in that situation.

It was then that I saw the headlights of the SUV. It was coming at me, fast. Too fast. It was swerving, and appeared to have hit ice, like I had.

That's when I stopped using sight as my primary sense. I think I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to see my death. But I felt. Oh, did I feel. I heard, too, but not as much as what I felt.

I heard the huge vehicle crash into my own tiny one. I heard the sickening crunch, the horrible crash, the grinding squeal of metal on metal. I felt the initial shock run through my ill-prepared car. I felt myself being thrown away from the metal frame as the other car continued to plow through it. I heard a little pop as the windshield broke and showered me in glass.

And, oddly enough, I heard the liquid sound of something pouring, something slightly viscous. I felt a splattering of a warm, thick substance all over me. Its horrid smell registered as gasoline in my mind. I knew that I should be scared. I was covered in gasoline, lying on the ground, with a car crash going on around me. But I couldn't bring myself to care that much, because that was when the pain hit.

Everything was horrible, blazing pain. I had cracked my head against something metal, though I couldn't quite remember what. My back was literally breaking, and I probably had spinal damage. My ankle was definitely broken, there was no question in the way it was bent completely backwards.

The thing was, I was a complete city girl. I used to think pain was when I cut a nail too short. I had never had anything come anywhere close to this level of pain, and it was hell. I think I was screaming that I wanted to die, just because it hurt so badly.

But I hadn't felt anything yet. I hadn't felt anything.

The other car hit again, plowing through. Something must have sparked. And suddenly, I was in total, all-encompassing agony. Every part of my body was being uncompromisingly scorched beyond belief. The heat was unbearable. I felt my skin literally melting away. You know when people say things feel as if they're on fire? It's not true. It never is. Because being on fire like this was too horrific to bear. They'd never be able to take it.

It went on for ages, it seemed; my own personal inferno, never-ending and complete. I finally felt what should have been a liberating feeling; cool water splashing over my frame. But instead, it only increased my hell, sending my horribly raw skin into shock and burning me. I screamed for the raw pain of it, knowing that I wouldn't escape. This was the end. I wanted it. The faster this was over, the better.

Both horrible sensations stopped, but there was lingering pain. Not to mention that every little thing that touched me was harsh and grating, considering my lack of skin. The grass had razored edges, and what was left of my burned clothes was tight and painful, suffocating me. I almost screamed when I felt hands lift me up. It wasn't any better when they set me in what I knew to be a stretcher. The hard back was unforgiving, pressing into my bleeding skin.

I heard a siren in the distance. Only when I was being placed in the ambulance did I realize that it wasn't in the distance, it was right there. Exhaustion prevented me from making anything of that fact. There was a babble of voices around me. A few were panicked. Some were simply urgent. But most were calm, professional.

Cloth was being stretched over various parts of my body. The parts that had felt the touch of the harshest fire. The parts that had been stripped of skin and were now bleeding. A needle was put in my hand, but I didn't have the strength to stop it. Very soon, the pain actually started fading. I couldn't believe it.

I had always taken everything so much for granted. Now that the pain was gone, the lack of it felt like absolute ecstasy. I had taken my hearing for granted. My sight. My very life.

Just after I had that thought, I blacked out.