Comeback

Disclaimer: I do not own the illustration utilized as the cover of this piece.

*Warning: Slightly graphic gore*

Comeback: Chapter 1

Mr. Swiss Cheese

I stumbled from the other side of the car breathing a sigh of relief. Thank God! I glanced at the completely crushed side of my car. If I had a passenger during this accident, then… No, don’t think like that, there was no one with me, so there is nothing to worry about. It’s best not to ponder on things that could have been rather than what is.

I brushed some dust off my jacket. Small chunks of debris were scattered around the car. I have no injuries and no one got hurt unless there was someone hurt in the other car. That’s excluding my car, of course, because I don’t see her getting a comeback from this wreck.

I jogged lightly to the other car, phone in hand. I dodged my own crumpled license plate on the ground as well as some other large pieces of debris. Just seconds ago, this black van side-swiped me when I was changing lanes on the highway. I had skeeted to the side of the highway and came to a stop at the railing. The van crashed into the railing right after me.

My car was fatally damaged, but I have insurance, so I’m not really worried, just a little irked. I think I need to have a little talk with the driver of the van in question. Not that they would listen, as a barely seventeen-year-old high school student isn’t very intimidating.

Though there was one ray of sunshine, I was very grateful that we landed out of the traffic, so that this did not become a pile-up. My long blonde hair shifted into my face as I stopped behind the smoking car. I knocked the offending hair out of the way with a hasty swipe of my hand.

“Hello? Are you alright?” I hesitantly walked toward the window when there was no answer. Are they--dead? No, no, no. They can’t-- I couldn’t have--- They’re fine... right?

A faint whisper erupted in the back of my mind. They could be not fine.

I pushed down the anxiety and replaced it with logic. Their car is not damaged enough for them to take substantial injury, and even if they did, it wouldn’t be my fault, and therefore, none of my business. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I’m no one to impose on someone else’s life, if they're hurt, then I’ll call the ambulance and my help ends there.

I reached the door and peeped in hesitantly. Nothing. No one. I stepped back from the car, startled. Where are they? It’s not like the car was driving itself. What’s going on?

I was so sure that I saw a young man or woman in the front seat of the car. Where--!!

What is this? The breath caught in my throat when I looked further into the car. Red, thick, sticky…. Fresh blood! There was blood all over the seat, camouflaging with the black leather.

Not to make any assumptions, but it looked as though someone was dragged from the car after being shot. No, that’s exactly what it looked like! The only thing missing from the scene was the gun that produced the bullet holes in the seat and the body in question.

I knew that I was no longer searching for a living person judging by the amount of blood. No. I’m not searching for anyone. This is clearly none of my business. This is even further away from my interest than if they were injured. Some things are better left alone.

I stepped away from the car again. This is something beyond me. I need to get away from this scene and cut off any relation with this. Something happened here. Something that I do not need to know about. Something that could get me killed if I do not play my cards right.

I turned my back to the car and walked away fast, but not fast enough to seem like I was running. I walked faster, and finally, reached my car. I breathed another sigh that I realized that I had been holding in.

I leaned against the car and dialed my phone to call a tow. I leaned against the car with my back pressed against the cool metal. I faced my surroundings, careful not to leave any openings for anyone hoping to sneak attack me. That, of course, was just me being paranoid.

No one has any need to attack me, because I have no affiliation with whatever was happening. This was just something that was going to end up as a cold file sitting on some detective’s desk for a decade before being filed away as yet another unsolved missing person’s case/possible homicide/assault. I am just a simple bystander that in the unfortunate event of this being an actual murder can refuse to be a witness or even say I saw anything. I’m fine. Safe.

Even with the reassurance of my own logic. This absolutely unreasonable paranoia tickled at the back of my own subconscious mind.

I shifted my feet further apart and away from the car behind me. I was now heavily leaning my weight on the car behind me.

This amount of suspicion was usual for me as I have seen enough movies where people are dragged underneath a car by their feet. This, of course, just like the fear I’m feeling right now, is unreasonable.

And if anything, I am a reasonable and logical person.

My face was stern and voice was silent. I have survival instincts and those same instincts are telling me to back off, pretend to have not seen anything, and wait to forget it with time. Pretend to forget, pretend to not know that this was much more than an accident. To me, this is just another hit and run. Yup, I’ll go with that.

I looked down at my sullied outfit. I guess I’m going to be late for school. The red leather jacket that matched my black silk shirt was stained with oil from the debris and my black skinny jeans were covered in dust. I picked a piece of debris from my hair while the phone rang.

It rang again.

Again.

Nothing.

I looked back at my phone. They aren't picking up? This can’t be right, this company’s job is to pick up when there are accidents. This is unbelievable! I need to get out of here and leave the rest to the police. I will not sue, I will not do anything with the law, just forget about it.

Normally, I would be concerned for the safety of the other driver, but… No, I’m not going to lie to myself or you. I simply don’t care what happened to the other person. I have always been my greatest priority. I’ve never done anything bad to a person for no reason, I don’t like seeing other people in peril. I just have no reason to be good or evil.

This scenario is no exception. I will prioritize my life over everything else. Guilt or whatever people feel after this sort of thing is for later, though I doubt such a weak feeling would ever affect me.

I looked back up from my phone with a face of irritation. I gasped, aloud.

Someone in the middle of the highway. I yelped and tried to back up, but the car was keeping me in place. The car was also the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground and expelling my breakfast as I felt the strength leave my knees.

A man stood alone in the middle of the highway. He was covered in dark red bloodstains. The scent of fresh blood mixed with the smell of exhaust from the highway. I struggled with the gag reflex in the back of my throat.

The man was staring in my direction, but his eyes were not directly on me. They were trailing the ground as though looking for something. I froze in place hoping to not catch his attention.

Only his eyes moved across the ground until they reached my feet. My eyes widened in fear and sickly anticipation as his feral eyes bored into mine. His face contorted into a sickening grin.

My voice was caught in my throat. I could not scream, I could not move, I could not think. I just stared as the man turned to face me. I felt my gag reflex tugging at the contents of my stomach as my own eyes ventured to examine the state of his body.

He had more holes than swiss cheese and that was being nice about it. He looked like he lost a fight with a hole puncher. He was riddled with gunshot wounds, some went through his entire body, so I would see muscle and some horribly destroyed organs. One particularly bad wound was in his abdomen causing me to be able to see his intestines as they slowly slipped out of his body like a long worm.

I struggled not to throw up. I dropped my phone on the ground and covered my mouth. The sound of my phone shattering on the ground caused the intensity of his gaze to strengthen.

He was wearing an expensive-looking black suit. It was now just as full of holes as his body was. Blood was staining almost every inch of the fabric. His face was not of a man that was riddled with bullet wounds. His eyes were hungry, his mouth turned upward into an insane grin.

He looked unreal. How was this man still alive?

My blood ran cold as I saw a vehicle drive straight toward him. Not stopping or faltering to the fact that there was A MAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD! What the hell is this?

I called out to him and took three steps forward. “Mr. get out of the way----”

HONK! CRASH! CRACK!

My body flew to the side. I was no longer a human anymore. I was jelly. My bones were crushed on impact with the truck moving at eighty miles per hour. My spine was crushed into small pieces moving throughout the rest of my mangled body, so paralysis was keeping me from feeling the pain. My arms and legs were-- well, they could no longer be called appendages, they were just another extension of the puddle that I have become.

I could not move. I could not breathe. I could not do anything, but think.

I landed a few meters away. The man was gone. He may have been swiss cheese, but at least, he was not jelly. I would rather be wherever he was rather than laying on the cold sidewalk as my life slips away from me. If I could muster enough breath to sigh, I would have.

I wonder what the afterlife is like. Will I see Mr. Swiss Cheese there or was he actually alive somehow? It seems unlikely that he or I would be alive for much longer. See! This is what happens when you try to help people, you get turned into jelly.

I became aware of people running up to me and sirens roaring to life. I would turn my head to greet them, but I think that the bones in my neck were out of service, so I just waited for them to reach me.

I wasn’t uncomfortable, but I was starting to become a little cross with the world. I may be lucky to not be feeling the pain of this accident, but being paralyzed, powerless to protect or move was… new.

Why wasn’t I dead yet? Why is my consciousness still here? I just want to get on with it before the feeling comes back, because I highly doubt that this puddle I have become will be comfortable.

I wonder what the doctor is going to say my injuries were. “Oh, she has two hundred and six broken bones as well as a concussion, and well, you name it.” or are they going to stop at “She's a puddle of jelly, now.”

I hope I’m still alive to hear the diagnosis.

Someone walked up to me and I shifted my pupils with all of my strength to look at them. Was it a nurse, or a doctor?

Well, whoever it was, took one look at what I have become and shook her head. I cracked a smile. She isn’t even going to try? She isn’t even going to check if I am still alive? What sort of doctor is this?! If I become a ghost or get reborn, I am going to come for her! Wait, for me, you lazy nurse, because I’m coming for you if I can haunt around the world for a while longer.

Her eyes did not show that she even noticed that I was smiling at her. What’s happening here? Tears glistened in her eyes and she tore her eyes away from my crumpled paper body. Oh, I look that bad.

I guess my future in modeling is over. I laughed in my mind.

Another medical personal jogged over and looked at me, then her.

“Any ID on this one?” He asked unemotionally with a dark husky voice.

She shook her head, “No, there is not even enough left of her face, anymore. We’ll have to run the DNA.”

I let out a shaky breath to tell them that I was alive, but nothing came. I was officially dead to the world. Gone, but not for long.

Chapter 2 coming soon!