DISCLAIMER: Contains mature thematic content (i.e. mentions drunk driving, one strong word edited with asterisks)
Jack and I went to the road where the car had hit her. I could taste the shattered glass, the hot, squealing rubber. We looked both ways and we sprinted to the median where I had seen her body lying on the cold pavement, her limbs outstretched like broken bird wings. I could see it all clearly but it was still fuzzy, flashes and images as if I were trying to recall a dream. Jack laid down the flowers and he set up the cross for her, for the God I didn’t believe in anymore. I hoped I was wrong. I hoped if I was wrong that she got into heaven, because she made her fair share of mistakes but she was wonderful, she was beautiful. Jack grabbed me and just started screaming into my shoulder. I could barely hold him up as his knees buckled beneath him and I knew that he loved her every bit as much as I had, as I still did. I could feel his love in every trembling breath. I wished this wasn’t real, I wished this was just a bad dream, we just held each other and shook and felt the pain and wondered why that beautiful girl had to die that way. I saw her long dark hair, her usually red lips drained of blood that leaked from her skull, her long limbs disfigured and I dug my fingers into Jack’s hoodie. I didn’t want to remember her this way. I didn’t want to remember her as a victim of a car crash, hit by some drunk who didn’t know his a** from a steering wheel, some drunk who killed her, who killed Alison.