He had the intention of pulling over, but, oblivious to the gateless highway that he was driving on, he drove right off the road, crashing down onto a railroad eighteen feet below them.

Her scream penetrated the air like nails clawing down a chalkboard. Then, he looked into those big green eyes of hers, and his heart felt like it was falling to his knees. His head flung forward, smashing against the steering wheel. Falling through the air had only lasted seconds, maybe milliseconds. Then, his vision went black. He could hear nothing. It felt like he was submerged underwater. All he knew was that he had to get out of the car. With shaking fingers, he unhooked the seatbelt. He pawed his way out. His head was throbbing. He was still crawling away on the cold metal train tracks when he felt the hot cinders on the soles of his feet. He collapsed in pain onto the tracks. His vision came back slowly, but, when it did, it was purple and grainy, as if someone had applied a filter over it.

The car was on fire. Where was she? She had felt so warm against him. Her mouth was soft and warm on his. The taste of blood filled his mouth now. He never should have kissed her. Never should’ve invited her to New York. He couldn’t do anything about that now though. There was no time.

His vision was fading out again. Sightless and hearing impaired, he continued to paw his way down the tracks. It seemed, in his oxygen-deprived state, that he had decided that he would crawl all the way to New York City with his guts spilling out of the gaping hole in his side. All he could hear was the percussion of his heart.

Finally, his arms grew limp and his sense of touch went numb. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to feel his way around. He collapsed again against the cold metal tracks. His breath deepened with each second, scared that it might be his last.

He felt like he was there for hours, fading in and out of consciousness.

When he finally realized that he was dying, he was overcome by forgiveness. He forgave her for letting him kiss her; he forgave the girls who shot him dirty stares whenever he looked their way; he forgave Monsieur Durand for leaving him too soon; he forgave the boys in France who had teased him; he forgave his annoying little brother for stealing his stuff; he forgave his father for those whiskey-ridden nights. He forgave everyone.

Blood oozed out of his side, hollowing him out.

As he sunk into unconsciousness, an array of colors danced before him. He could feel the colors. Crimson reds, emerald greens, fiery oranges, chocolatey browns, and ivory whites. In smooth motions, they twirled around each other. They were dancing. Without conscious effort, his mouth turned up just enough to suggest the idea of a smile.

cry, lights, and sad image

~ part of a novel i'm writing :) ~