Guilty
One
He can still remember what she was wearing. Her favorite one shoulder deep purple dress that was long enough not to be considered slutty, but short enough to look high-fashion. She was glowing. Her brown eyes sparkled as she danced with him, smiling and giggling with every move.
"I love you." She had said later, as they sat in the empty parking lot of Dairy Queen sharing stories and eating blizzards. She had always been spontaneous like that, just blurting out anything she felt.
And he had said it back.
And later that night, as he was taking her home, he made a terrible mistake. Three hundred feet away, the light turned yellow. He sped up in order to make it in time.
"Slow down, Zack. We can sit at one light, it'll be okay."
But he ignored her and sped up a little more.
Fifty feet away, the light turned red. He didn't stop to see the gray pickup truck that was coming swiftly down the road. He only saw it when it ran head on into the passenger side of his car.
Friday hit her head very hard and broke her right arm and two ribs. She had to get twelve stitches from her cheekbone to her jaw.
Zack had a black eye and five stitches.
Both had recovered but stuck to hanging out only at the other's home.
Eventually, Zack was allowed to drive again.
The night of the wreck, when Zack told Friday he loved her, he had meant it.
But now, sitting in his car, watching her lifeless eyes dart around as if moving them would bring back her ability to see, he realized something.
If he said those three words again, he wouldn't mean them.
"I love you." She had said later, as they sat in the empty parking lot of Dairy Queen sharing stories and eating blizzards. She had always been spontaneous like that, just blurting out anything she felt.
And he had said it back.
And later that night, as he was taking her home, he made a terrible mistake. Three hundred feet away, the light turned yellow. He sped up in order to make it in time.
"Slow down, Zack. We can sit at one light, it'll be okay."
But he ignored her and sped up a little more.
Fifty feet away, the light turned red. He didn't stop to see the gray pickup truck that was coming swiftly down the road. He only saw it when it ran head on into the passenger side of his car.
Friday hit her head very hard and broke her right arm and two ribs. She had to get twelve stitches from her cheekbone to her jaw.
Zack had a black eye and five stitches.
Both had recovered but stuck to hanging out only at the other's home.
Eventually, Zack was allowed to drive again.
The night of the wreck, when Zack told Friday he loved her, he had meant it.
But now, sitting in his car, watching her lifeless eyes dart around as if moving them would bring back her ability to see, he realized something.
If he said those three words again, he wouldn't mean them.