All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Drunk Driving
It is night.
It is night.
I went to a party.
I went to the grocery store.
I had a drink, or 2, or 3…
I bought food and groceries for my family.
It is late.
It is late.
I get behind the steering wheel, my friends clambering around me, I feel kinda tipsy.
I get behind the steering wheel after tucking my sleeping children into the backseat.
The road is deserted.
There is no one out driving this late.
I decide to have a little bit of fun with my friends.
Why are those lights ahead of me swerving?
And then I see the lone car.
And then the SUV is right in front of me.
I swerve too late.
It is barreling towards me.
I honk, I swear I did.
There’s a deafening blaring, but what can I do?
I am petrified; I see the woman’s face, stricken, right before it happens.
All I see are lights, blinding lights, all I feel is crushing.
The windshield shatters, glass is cutting my face.
I feel like a balloon being popped and twisted and cut and stretched.
There is car all around me, pinning me in.
I can hear my children screaming.
I see red flashing lights of an ambulance.
The creeping, powerful darkness is taking over.
Oh god.
Oh, God.
My friends.
My babies, my babies.
I scream for help.
I scream because of the agony.
The Jaws of Life are freeing me; piece by piece.
I’m bleeding, dying, I am unable to move.
I am carted away on a stretcher, I see my friends, and a small child, who is crying for her brother and mommy.
I am dragged away in a body bag.
The cold hard bars of prison wrap around me.
The freshly dug earth embraces my body.
A child is motherless, there is a lady in the ground who lies next to her dead baby, and somewhere is a stretch of country road, in the middle of nowhere, splattered with the blood of the innocent.
I was not the one who had drunk and drove, yet my son and I were the ones to die, our blood mixed with the leftover alcohol that was consumed so carelessly that fateful night.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.