WILD

The wind was brutal and so cold it cut like a knife sharpened by the devil himself. Would you expect anything less from Chicago during winter? I march through the thick bed of snow, and I’m too busy gasping for air like a maniac to pay attention to the violent wind, spitting flurries of snow into my face. The steam I’m still blowing over the entire accident is helping numb my body from the cold, like a furnace of fury within me.

It’s wild. When you’re super angry you lose most of your physical senses, because you’re entirely absorbed by the thoughts in your head. I was mad right before the accident happened. I don’t remember a lot but I remember the seconds right before. Maybe 3 seconds of rage followed by 3 seconds of fear.

Wild. Something life changing can happen within 6 seconds. Wish I cared more but I don’t. All that matters is i’m running late to the New Year’s Eve party at my parents house. Whole family is there. I won’t let anything stop me from going, especially not a belligerent drunk. The one who caused the whole fiasco. Kept apologizing over and over like a real lunatic, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”, as if begging to God. I told him, “Buddy, I’m not God and I don’t have time for this tonight. I have to get to my family.”

My parents house is not far from here, and a little snow has never hurt anyone. I wonder what my family is thinking right now. Probably nothing. I’m always late to everything. Love making an entrance. My dad is probably telling my mom, “Rachel got lost trying to use Google maps, AGAIN.” I wish I could call them but my phone is dead. It would have been nice to have someone pick me up after the accident. As I walk absorbed in deep thought I can't help but but wonder how my pants are holding up in the snow. When I look down at them I find the strangest thing. There are no footprints from where I’ve stepped. I search for the trail of footprints that should be behind me but find none.

Wild. I must have hit my head harder than I realized. I remember slamming into the steering wheel with a world of force. I desperately need to get home and take some aspirin. I’m so close now I can see the orange porch light from here. My parents will be livid once they find out about the accident. The red coupe was a Christmas gift since I’ve been on my best behavior at school, and need it when I leave for college next year. I didn’t even get the chance to show it off to the rest of the family. There are plenty of gifts I have broken before, but breaking a damn car will surely warrant a whole other level of grounded. I can hear dad already, “Rachel, are you trying to give your mother a damn ulcer?”

As I approach the orange glowing porch I’m greeted by the frantic screeching of a pure white barn owl, perched on the side rail beneath the porch light. It’s snow white feathers blend perfectly with the snow, making it impossible to see from far away. The screeching grows louder as the owl’s eyes pierce into mine. It takes flight, charging directly towards me, and it’s talons latch onto the hood of my thick jacket. Before I can react my feet are lifted off the ground as it begins pulling me into the daunting dark sky. I have no idea where this psycho bird is trying to take me, but I have no interest in going, and I manage to slide my foot under the porch rail before it can pull me any higher. I wrap my second foot around the rail and pull down with all my strength. The owl is now screeching bloody murder as it tugs forcefully in the opposite direction, causing the hood of my jacket to rip off, and I plummet onto the steps of the porch. I jump to my feet and quickly scurry through the front door before the viscous beast with wings gets another hold of me.

Upon entering the house I find one of my younger cousins sprawled out on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. I sneak up behind her to see what she’s reading. It’s some article from the local news app. As she scrolls a photo of my battered car appears. This will be awful if the News gets the news to my parents before I do. I continue reading the article over her shoulder:

Teenage girl dead after hit by drunk driver.

Voices from the next room shout, "It's time!!"

The phone drops from her hand before she scrolls further, and she dashes to the next room, joining the rest of the family as they begin chanting the countdown.

“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”

I’m dead?

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”

My parents are going to start the new year with a dead daughter.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!”

Wild.