Wayne's World.

Whenever I try to recall the weather of the night before my accident, I can remember it being nearly perfect outside. I had been knocked out in my boyfriend’s bed all morning and the majority of the day, but once I got up then stepped outside, I instantly grew excited for the night… As if I was going to do something other than take an absurd amount of Xanax and completely black out for hours. But, of course, that’s exactly what I had in mind.

 The spring and summer of that year was nothing short of vague. I can only recall certain scenes and images of what really went on those days. In my head, it comes to me more like a movie I had seen but can’t really remember the plot of. This was the peak of my addiction or ‘binge’ and my summer days were all melted together in the same pot. And as time goes by, the more solid it becomes, making those days harder to separate from each other.

 Although, following the crash, my lack of memory halted that early morning in June. From that point on, I can remember everything. Especially the time I spent under the bridge and in the creek. And of course, the most memorable part, him.

Him, I could never forget. Despite how they justify it or what they suggest really happened, I know it happened like this.

***

Straight out of Dillton High I went to Butler University the next fall. Butler was a good fit for me, it wasn’t too close to Dillton but it was still in Indiana. It gave me some nice breathing room from home and the freedom of that was a massive draw for me from the start. Though, besides the freedom, older boys, and the parties, I did enjoy college so far. Back then, I was a smaller, prettier, and unscarred girl and everyone seemed to want me there. Plus, school was never really that challenging to me as I did well at keeping my grades on point. Today, I still can’t believe I sacrificed all of that for a boy when I took a year off school.

 I had made that choice when I had fallen in “love” with Hunter. He was my age; I knew him the whole time growing up and I can say I always had a thing for him, but he didn’t really develop feelings for me until I had come back the summer of my sophomore year. We spent that whole summer together and when it became time to return to school in the fall, I did not want to leave him. He didn’t tell me to stay, nor did he tell me to go; he was just so indifferent about it; about everything really. For some stupid, naive reason, I loved that about him.

 So, I spent the year with him, all the way to next summer that is. My parents were furious with me at the start, mostly about school but they also didn’t trust Hunter much. That didn’t stop me though, and they knew it wouldn’t and, in the end, they let me make my own decisions. That whole year I stayed at his house almost every night. He didn’t have his own place like I make it out to be though. Hunter lived with his dad, and Mr. Taylor just didn’t care what his son did, no matter how irresponsible his actions were.

 The particular night in which I’m writing about, we had a plan to hang out with two friends who were bringing Xanax gummies over. Justin and Marcus were actually his friends to be truthful. Marcus was really funny, and I did like him; Justin, on the other hand, was annoying and extremely flirty but really, he was border line rapey. He always got under my skin𑁋or I mean, he would have liked to𑁋by calling me Riley on purpose. I’m positive he knew my name was Kylee but that was just one of the small things he did that made me dislike him even more.

 His friends came over around seven or so with the gummies. The gummies were these little green blocks no bigger than a fruit snack, but Marcus mentioned one cube was the equivalent to three bars of Xanax.

I took two. It’s what I felt was necessary to get the high I desired. Around February is when I started taking Xanax and from that point to this point, they began to have less and less effect on me. The pills are all I had access to before then and the word was that gummies were “double dipped,” so they were obviously stronger. They were more bitter going down, but Hunter told me to suck on them like he was. If I would have known that bitter and chewy cube was going to be my downfall, I would have never given myself the chance to taste it.

***

Fatigued or weak seems like a narrow way to put the effects of Xanax into words. Lethargy is absolutely one of the side effects, but I wouldn’t say that it’s from weakness or that it’s the only result. Based off my experiences, I would say the lazy side of the high comes from feeling heavy. A weight is dropped onto the person and it stations them, yet, at the same time, a different weight is lifted mentally. All their concerns and anxieties flee, leaving them cool with anything and everything that’s going on. That’s what I would call, the first shade of the high.

 Then, after a certain amount is taken, they look more like someone on their way out of this world. Pale in complexion and jaw loosely hanging open, sometimes even with their tongue out and their eyes practically closed. Looking from the outside, you would think that they’re asleep and more than half the time, you’d be correct. Fighting a Xanax induced sleep is like staying dry at a waterpark. They might not get totally soaked, and the person on Xanax might stay awake for a little while, but inevitably, they will be splashed just like how the one on Xanax will find themselves with their eyes closed and unconscious.

 Marcus was the first one I saw asleep, I think. Hunter could have been out before him though. If I had been focusing on him and not Family Guy on the TV, I might have been able to keep Hunter awake. Maybe Marcus too. Honestly, anybody but Justin would have been perfect.

 I noticed Justin awake and looking at me after I had checked my phones time and messages. It was only 10:30ish and my mom had texted me to say goodnight and that she loved me𑁋since every night I was never home for her to tell me in person, she usually did𑁋and I saw I had three messages from an unknown number. They said, “whatss upp” with a drooling emoji.

It was Justin texting me from no more than three feet away.

 I don’t know how long I stayed inside once I realized, but I must have felt just as uneasy with him staring as I do now because I ended up outside sitting on some lawn chair in Hunter’s back yard looking up at the stars. The night really was strangely gorgeous, that always stuck with me. Not before too long, Justin came out as well and with his own chair, the kind you place on the beach and tan in. He slugged over to me and placed his chair uncomfortably close, and nearly fell in it when he sat down.

 What Justin said to me while we were outside, I don’t have a clue. For as long as I’ve known him, I never really cared what he was saying whether I was sober or high. So, it doesn’t really shock me that I can’t make out anything he said that night. What I do remember from our exchange is precisely what made me get in my car and drive off.

 Drunkenly, he called my name.

 “Kyleeee” was just like how he said it, with an emphasis on the e in my name. Although surprised he didn’t say Riley, I still ignored him and kept looking at anyway but his direction.

 He laughed his stupid high pitch hyena laugh even with Xanax dragging him down. I wanted to get up as soon as he got out there, but I was so sluggish myself. Though, no substance could have kept me outside with Justin after his next move.

 “Ky!” he shouted in the form of a whisper. I couldn’t stand that he used that name so casually. That was a nickname reserved only by loved ones and I was frankly offended he even tried to use it. That’s when I snapped back and saw it hanging out of his pants.

 He had pulled his tiny dick out of his shorts and was playing with it right next to me. “Do ya wanna touch it?” the fucking creep asked me.

 I bolted from my chair, flipping it on its back and went back inside. If I was out there a second longer, I was going to scream the neighborhood awake. Immediately, I wanted to tell Hunter what had happened but he was still in the same position I left him in. Harshly, I shook him and slapped his back while calling his name, but he was out for the night, most likely the day too from the amount he took.

 Then I heard the back door open again; Justin was coming back inside.

I looked at Marcus and back at Hunter. They weren’t waking up for anything, I was sure of that. Without much planning, I grabbed my car keys off the table and sloppily ran out the front door before Justin returned to the living room to see me.

***

When someone says they blacked out on Xanax, it’s no exaggeration. It’s as if an auto pilot mode is switched on and the cock pit becomes vacant. The pilot will return eventually, but sometimes when they do come back, they’re somewhere else, maybe somewhere off track. The blackout may be merely minutes, or it could be hours with only brief moments of awareness in between.

 Right when I got into my car, after frantically leaving Hunters, I went black.

Only for a few minutes though, and when I regained a better consciousness, I was on the outskirts of Dillton. To be specific, I was on Jones St. and just a little away from my parents. My auto pilot or subconscious must have known that.

I was all too familiar with Jones St, even as drugged up as I was. I drove on it every day during high school, avoiding the highway because Jones St. was more relaxed with only a forty-five-mph speed limit. The isolated road itself was a straight shot out or into town with farmlands, rich neighborhoods, and old trees on each side of it.

 With my head dangerously close to the wheel of my Monte Carlo, I finally gathered that I was only eight miles from my parents. Regardless, those eight miles could have been eighty miles, I was a Xaned out mess. I shouldn’t have been driving. My posture at the wheel was hunched and awful, I was pretty much leaning on it. Keeping my eyes open was as challenging as keeping them open in water and when they were open, the road wouldn’t hold their attention like my phone was. Music was blaring loud, and my driver side window was down all in effort to keep me awake.

 The summer night air rushing in through my driver side window felt excellent while I was flying down Jones. My speed was constant eagerly driving at sixty mph and I was edging closer to safety by the second.

 Before I knew it, I was approaching Hiker Creek within a mile. Now turned ironic, every Easter with occasion in the summer, my cousins and I would make the three mile walk to Hiker to play in the creeks water. At the pinnacle of spring, it always held flowing water but, in the summer, it usually had little water or none at all. I looked forward to walking down to Hiker every year as a kid. However, as all of us grew older, they didn’t come out this way as much, and when they did, the creek wasn’t mentioned and like them, I quit going myself. And before my car tore through the steel guard rail on the bridge above the creek, I hadn’t been there in seven years.

 There was a song playing, and I didn’t like it or just at that moment I didn’t. I grabbed my phone in attempted to change the song. I can’t remember if the wheel jerked out of my hand or if I had them on it in the first place. My Monte Carlo pulled to the right, and I heard a loud crash, then suddenly, I had the feeling as if I was on a roller coaster hurling down the track at top speed.

Seconds before my life changed not only painfully but spiritually, I looked toward the back of my car on the way down because something was telling me I wasn’t alone. But I saw no one, and then nothing but black once I hit Hiker Creek.

***

As soon as I woke up, before my eyes even had the chance to see my surroundings, I believed I was safe. I thought I made it to my parents’ house after all and I was curled up in the bed I left that summer. I wasn’t that fortunate though. 

 The music I had been playing at an unreasonable volume was dead and gone, replaced only by a ticking and hissing from my now upside down and totaled engine. My hair had been in a loose bun all night but once I came to, my hair was down and dangling to the roof of my car. As my eyes looked toward my hair, I was hit with a massive light headed feeling and my face felt warm and numb. I looked to my rearview mirror and there were veins bulging in my forehead. They were thick and chock full of blood, feeling more like roots than veins.

  Moving my arms from their hanging position gave me major discomfort. I tried to unstrap myself, but it was as if I was physically restrained from putting my hands near my lap. I ended up being able to put my hands at the top of the wheel, It’s the farthest I could get them, and I hoped maybe that would make the blood even back out.

 I was scared and confused, it took me quite some time to recall how I got there but once I was struck with the realization of my crash, I began to sob upside down. Despite that it was remarkable I had my seatbelt on and that I hadn’t been smashed by my own car, I was still convinced death was waiting around the corner for me.

 But other than the uncomfortable feeling my arms gave me from hanging above my head this whole time, I felt no other pain or agony. I wasn’t bleeding from anywhere I could see. No scratches, gashes, or any place I could feel a potential bruise coming. I was fine, I was alive, but I didn’t feel I should be. Especially with no damage like how it appeared. The car from the inside looked fine too. None of the interior had been smashed in and the rolled-up windows were still intact without a crack on any of them.

 My driver side window was still down from when I was driving, and I could see all the healthy grass and weeds that my car was so close to smashing. From what the night allowed to be seen, the creek looked the same as it did every summer: dry with short weeds and grass covering the creek.

 Outside seemed way later than when I was on the way over. Granted that it was already late when I crashed, but it seemed near black out now. I decided then I must have been unconscious for a few hours.

 Although the time was irrelevant to me, I couldn’t have known even if I wanted to. My car was dead and not able to display the time and my phone was missing. Way later, the police would bring me my iPhone in the hospital. They said it was yards away from where my car landed and my mother gasped, “Oh my god, no wonder you couldn’t call for help!” I just nodded toward her in an agreeing fashion but truthfully, I doubt if I would have ever used my phone if I did have it.

***

During those isolated and uncomfortable hours, I strongly believed it was too late for me. No one ever used Jones at this time of night𑁋except for drunk or drugged up drivers obviously𑁋and by the time they would use the road, I figured I’d be dead by then. Plus, I was far too embarrassed and ashamed of being caught there in the first place and what got me there exactly.

 Only three times did I cry out for help since I claimed myself be hopeless. When I cried out the first time, I thought hope was approaching.

A series of twigs snapped underneath what I assumed to be human feet. It sounded amazingly close to me, so I focused in.

Then I heard more.

Grass crunching with more twigs snapping but at a slow rate, like they were looking out for their steps or creeping up. 

 Right…left…right…left.

 I took the opportunity just in case.

 “Hello? Hey!” I yelped.

 Praying it was a person and not just a nocturnal animal, I anticipated that their slow creep would speed up to the car. Discouragingly, no one made a reply and the steps I was hearing stopped for a moment.

 “Help me?” I whined.

 Suddenly the steps returned, but much different from before, now they weren’t stepping, they were loudly stomping at the same slow pace.

 RIGHT…LEFT…RIGHT…LEFT

 Stomps that sounded like they were produced by a fictional giant filled the creek that morning. Closing in on my upside-down car with me trapped in, I held my breath on accident but felt the desire to scream. I recall thinking, Is that you, Death? Coming up on me?

 I was struck with a case of odd luck because right when the steps were coming as close as they could before getting to me, blackness came upon me one more time.

***

Before my final black out, I assumed I was never going to see the light of day again. Thankfully, it was the first thing that stuck out to me when I woke up. The green in the grass was becoming more apparent, I could now see the cracks in the dry dirt between patches of weeds and the uplifting sun had also encouraged the birds to form their choir for the day.

 Everything else was still in order though, and by in order I mean I was still hanging upside down in my flipped car under a bridge. Through the sun and birds, I felt relieved, even if it was just a little tease of the day. It was hard for me to fathom I had made it to dawn alive. The heavy steps I had heard earlier had assured me I wasn’t long for this life, but seeing the world brighten before my eyes when it was once appearing black, gave me hope.

 My arms were back to dangling and were completely numb by this point. There wasn’t a possibility of me swinging my arms to one side let alone put my hands back on the wheel. Crying had crossed my mind again, but as noted, the rising sun was giving me strength or at least that’s what it felt like.

 People would start driving on Jones soon, I figured. I did have my doubts though; the bridge over Hiker was pretty small, the creek only stretched like sixteen feet wide. My own hope was someone seeing the rip in the bridges side guard or maybe even see my car if they bothered to look out by the bridge.

 While practically praying for it to be over with, a soft sound made me jolt and snatched my attention. Sticks were being broken underneath what could be human feet. It sounded just as nearby as earlier in the morning but normal sounding and not yet menacing. I awaited to hear further steps to be taken in my direction and when I did, I was hesitant and afraid.

What was I going to do if it was the same thing I heard before I blacked out? Just trying to get me to speak up so it can reveal its true beastly self and devour me?

 Right…left…right…

 “Hello?” a man spoke. 

My heart, while still upside down with the rest of my body, jumped into my shoes when I heard his voice for the first time.

 “Yes! Hello!” I screamed. “I’m in here! I don’t seem to be hurt but I’ve been in here all night! Can you please get me out or call somebody!”

 Abnormally, there was no reply at first. Then he chimed back in like he had forgot he was even talking to someone.

“Oh, ha-ha, yeah. I can help you. What’s your name, honey?”

 “Kylee Richter.”

 Again, there was a long pause in our conversation.

 “Hello?” I called back.

 The silence dragged on and by the time he did speak back, I was close to thinking I was imagining his voice being there.

 He actually returned with a laugh prior to talking.

 “Yeah, I’m here, Ky. Don’t worry.”

 It went right over my head then but I’m certain I’m quoting him accurately. The man outside the car saying my family\friend nickname gave me the feeling I knew him, or maybe he knew my family, which wasn’t impossible if he was from the area. It was even kind of likely he did know me if that was the case.

 His voice was friendly and had a touch of the country in it, he definitely sounded like anybody else from Dillton. The whole Midwest tone and slang was hard to detach yourself from if you grew up here and its easy as hell to hear it in somebody’s voice. In the car, I couldn’t decipher his age, but he wasn’t too assertive like most grown men around Indiana like to be, he was more suggestive and supportive sounding.

 “You say you’re not banged up in there? You must be one lucky gal then, considering I’ve seen multiple bodies pulled out of wrecks in comfier positions than your car is in.”

 “I don’t feel so lucky right now but I’m glad I’m alive. Have you called someone? Or could you get me out of here? I’ve been like this for so long I can’t feel my arms!”

 Another lull in conversation came from the man. Every time he did so I would get annoyed passed my limits. I didn’t even bother calling out this time and I just waited for him to make his next move. I also thought he could be calling someone at any moment he wasn’t speaking to me.

 Waiting, I noticed the sun was starting to spread faster and brighter than before. From what I could see of the sky in my bent side mirrors, it was becoming blue and there were very few clouds. I predicted it to be a hot day with a small breeze. The day was assured to be absolutely beautiful from how I pictured it. I remember somewhat bargaining with God that if I got to live past that day, and continued on to have another chance at a different sunny day, I would never take drugs again. And as one could tell, I did get the day I asked for plus more, and I also kept my end of the bargain too.

 During my admiring of the incoming day light, a foot dressed in a brown sandal stepped directly in my view. The shoe was Velcro strapped to an ordinary sized male foot but longer toenails than most.

 “I’m comin’ in there to unstrap you and getcha’ out myself, all right? Try and get ready for me,” he said while I tried to look up at his face, but was only able to see his foot.

 On board with anything at this point, I agreed and anticipated my rescue.

***

Dillton, not unlike other small towns, has a tight community. Gas stations, grocery stores, and school events are constantly attended by mutual friends and even some family. It’s truly difficult to not be recognized if a native goes into town. Everybody notices everybody, at least once. With that being said, when I got to see the man who pulled me out of my totaled car at five in the morning under a local bridge, I knew right off the bat I had never seen him a day in my life beforehand. 

 He looked to be the age of retirement, or he was just sneaking up on it. Not a large man by any means, though he was taller than me and stood with great posture that displayed some sort of confidence. His voice also sounded sure of himself but when looking at him while he spoke, it was the type of confidence that could be mistaken for charm.

“You sure you feel okay?” he said to me once I got to my feet, looking directly into my eyes.

 His were a dusty green that assumingly were much brighter and clearer in his youth. Not to say he was brittle or a walking antique, because he didn’t really come off that way. He seemed active in his everyday life and possibly even worked out to some degree. All in all, he gave off a look that he was in pretty good shape for his age.

  To go with the sandals, he had khaki shorts on, and a vibrant red short sleeved shirt buttoned all the way to the top of his chest. The outfit was clean, lacking wrinkles, stains or tears in the clothing and it was complete by a grey John Deere hat that looked just as old as me.

 I didn’t say much when he first spoke to me once I got out of the car. Not only was I checking the man out, but I was still so downright astounded I was alive and even more amazed by the fact that like my car, there wasn’t really any glaring damage on me. The feeling in my arms took a while to recover but it did before I started being more social toward him.

 “Thank you so much for being here and getting me out. I honestly thought I was done for,” I praised him as he circled my dead car.

Starting to become something like a signature around this time, he chuckled before replying to me.  “Oh, no problem, dear. It was on my way.”

 That made me smile. “What’s your name anyway?”

He replied swiftly but not with an answer to my question, but with his own. “Did you grow up here?”

 “In Dillton?”

 “In America.”

 It was as if I didn’t comprehend his question.

In America? Clearly, I had. I didn’t look like I could be from anywhere else as far as I knew, and I surely didn’t have a foreign accent. The only thing I could think to do from his bizarre question was to stay silent while he looked for his answer.

 “Never mind. We have to get you out of here, girl!”

 I nodded back to him and assumed he meant by the ambulance or police that were on their way. Police potentially arriving did scare me though since they would probably have to investigate why I crashed, but after it was all said and done, I faced no sort of legal trouble for my actions.

 Watching my surroundings brighten from the sun, I thought I would be hearing the sirens at any second. Although, they never blared, we sat there with only the frogs and crickets cussing while he evaluated my car and occasionally turned his head to smile at me.

 “Alright, let’s get goin’.”

 Entirely bewildered, I looked up at him with curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

 “I’m going to get you out of here, just follow me.”

  “Wait, wait, where are you taking me?”

 “Well don’t make it sound like I’m kidnapping you now.” He smiled. His voice was still so calm and strangely persuasive, he talked so matter-of-fact like. As if he did this kind of thing often.

 “I don’t know if I should. I don’t understand wh-”

 “Hey, kid, just trust me, and everything will be perfectly perfect again, okay? This is a hell of an accident you got yourself in and you’re in shock, I get it. But just follow me and I’ll work everything out.”

 I had no clue what he was talking about, or where he wanted me to go but I was beginning to trust him for unknown reasons. So, I followed him as he led the way down Hiker Creek.

***

Mr. Noname didn’t speak while he led the way, but he did stroll with a soft whistle. When I first heard the tune, it didn’t sound familiar to me, though now I can’t get it out of my head. The song gave off a tone that was dreamy and subtly melancholic like most old rock n roll songs from the 50s. Sometimes when I’m spacing out or just relaxing, I’ll catch myself whistling it the way he did.

 The sun was becoming more obvious than ever, shining beams of its light in between trees on the right side of Hiker, but not much of its shine got through. The creek was similar to how I remembered with its cool and generous shade. I could still feel the warmth coming in even with the shade, but it was just enough for it to be soothing. Despite the circumstances, it was sort of nice for a moment to take a hike down memory creek.

 As the night transformed into the morning, the more I started thinking for myself, the shock was fading.

What the hell am I doing? I asked myself. I have no idea who this is.

 He did save me though. I was out of the car because of him, and I was extremely appreciative about that. But where was he taking me?

 I bit my tongue on that question, even though I was becoming more resistant the further we traveled down the creek.

 On the walk, I hardly saw any water or puddles, but the weeds seemed to have no issue growing in its absence. All kinds of them covered the dirt in patches and some were tall enough to poke up my legs𑁋 or worse, what my legs lead up to. Small athletic shorts weren’t the best choice of outfit for my journey but then again, it was an accident that started it all.

 As much as the weeds were awful to walk through, they weren’t everywhere and every once in a while, there would be nothing bothering or touching my legs at all.

 I should have spoken up then.

 Eventually, we came across a large part of the creek covered with these huge and leafless bushes. Instead of being puffy with bright green color, they were just branches coated with black thorns that looked like decaying teeth from a small shark. I have never seen any plant like it. Most plants symbolize life or love in one way or another but the plants that were ahead of me, looked to symbolize death or pain.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when Noname started to walk right into it. And crazier than that, I couldn’t help but follow.

 Instantly they punctured my legs and arms, no matter how much I tried to maneuver around the thorns. Him on the other hand, his pace didn’t stutter. He kept his head up and his whistling still blowing.

 My patience faded and was long gone. “Hey, where are we going, dude? Is this really necessary?”

 He didn’t even stop whistling. That did it for me and I know that for others reading this, it’ll be a no brainer, but I finally realized that none of this made any sense.

 “Alright, fuck this.” I stopped about a quarter of the way into the field. Noname kept going forward.

 “Hello? Are you fucking with me? Where are you trying to take me?” I was beyond frustrated, confused, and scared while I spoke this, and I just wanted to be done with it and out of the creek for good.

 It was like I wasn’t there with him. He didn’t give me the smallest signal to figure if he was listening or not. So, I took matters into my own hands, and turned around.

That got his attention, and he evidently didn’t take my abandonment well.

 “Where do ya think you’re goin’?” he said, but in a tone beyond different from before. Now, he sounded angry, and his voice was starting to get raspy as if he suddenly developed a sore throat. “Ky, it would be best for you to come with me. So, keep walking. Right fucking now, girl!” he yelled.

“No,” I confidently said to him once I turned to him again. “I’m not going with you anymore! We’ve been walking for at least a mile and you haven’t said anything to me about where we are going, what the plan is, or even your name!” I turned back around. “Thanks for getting me out of the car. I’m going back to the road now so I can flag someone down. Goodbye.”

 A wild sharp pain came upon my entire right leg. I looked down and right before I saw them squeeze, I saw that the thorns were constricting up my right leg like pythons with an agenda.

 In no time it spread to my other leg and wrist to stop me from swinging my arms. Thick amounts of blood leaked from where the thorns stabbed me and louder than I ever did in the car, I bellowed.

My screams were high pitched, powerful, and as genuine as could be. When I think about the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, I still think of those thorns and when I think about the most scared that I’ve ever been, I don’t think about when I woke up trapped in a flipped car. No, every time that fear is brought into my head, I think of how Noname looked when I looked back up, and how he looked at me.

Looking like his skin was melting or sticking to his bones, his face began to resemble a skeleton with only a wax paper thin layer of skin on him. He looked at me and he smiled without showing his teeth, but I could still see them through his skin. His green eyes were swelling as well, and there were large dark bags under his eyes, the kind someone would get from lack of sleep or taking a downer drug like opium or Xanax.

 “You can’t go anywhere but with me,” he said in a voice much raspier than before. His hat fell off when he stepped toward me in the sea of thorns and some dark hair that was underneath shed off with it. The top of his bald head was bumpy or spiky, and as if he still had a head of hair, he ran his hand over the top of it. His fingernails were now long like his toe nails.

He got face to face with me, put his index fingernail to my chin and pointed my head up to his.

 “Listen to me and make no mistake, whore. You belong to me now. The life you lived and the world you inhabited have expired.” His smile returned but this time he showed teeth, broken, dirty, and unhuman like.

 “Your heart, your mind, your cunt, and your soul are all my possessions now, for I am your destination and fate, and you have arrived.” He went in as if he were going to kiss me and I had no choice but to watch him get closer. So, I closed my eyes.

 Suddenly, another voice spoke to me, but it sounded above, and it was a woman’s voice. “Hey! Are you awake down there? Help is on the way!”

 I opened my eyes to see I was in my car again. Upside down once more with my arms and hair dangling. Everything wasn’t the same as before though, the sun was completely out and there was glass and blood everywhere. My car𑁋even from the inside𑁋looked demolished. Was I bleeding? Yes, and a lot. My nose, my eyebrows, and my lip all had gashes but there was still a lot more blood to be accounted for; it couldn’t have all came from my face. Finally, I heard the sirens coming and I whined with them then passed out.

***

No question that I wasn’t quite as unharmed as I once believed. It turns out I suffered four shattered thoracic vertebrae in my back that night and the surgery was just a little over six hours. I still consider myself lucky to be alive and the doctors, EMTs, and my family considered that as well.

 My therapist, Dr. Langoria, told me it would be good for me to talk about my accident to others. ‘To release myself from that creek,’ he says. Like a big slap in the face though, no one listens to my story. They don’t buy it for one second. I can tell by their faces when I start talking about the footsteps growing huge or when I bring up Noname.

Although, they don’t tell me I’m wrong, they just suggest the following, “The Xanax was making you have bizarre stressed induced dreams.” Or “When you broke your back, you went into so much shock that you made up a dream or fantasy in your head to escape the pain while still being trapped.”

 Bullshit. He was there, I remember him vividly and when I go out into town, I’m afraid I’ll run into him sometimes. The version I had first seen of him, not the second. I don’t miss him or anything, but I guess I just want to be assured it wasn’t just my imagination like the doctors or my parents say.

 But it really doesn’t matter what they say, because I know the truth. I don’t know how I ended back in the car, but I know I got out before they got me out.

And when I look down to my wrist or my ankles and admire the scars the thorns left, it gives me closure.