A van came over too far into my lane and, on my haste to get out of its way, my car ended up on the wet grass. For a moment I thought of how it had rained the whole night before and the entire morning. And just as I suspected the grass was more a pool of mud than anything else. As soon I was off the road the car slid out of my control. Try as I might, I just could not get it back on the tarmac.  In a split second I wondered how much trouble I would be in for destroying the front of my car, but I can’t remember if my foot came off the accelerator. As I wasn’t going too fast, I thought I’d hit the hedge and set off my airbags. It’s amazing how many thoughts go through your head in such a short period of time.

I opened my eyes to find myself hanging sideways by my sit belt. It took me awhile to realise what had actually happened. I had turned over. The stereo was blaring out some music, twice the volume I had it while I was driving. I tried to switch it off, but the button wasn’t working. I could see the van break lights just ahead. The driver had pulled over.  

Fear kicked in. What if the car sets on fire? So I scrambled out on my hands and knees, cracking and crashing pieces of metal and glass. I was rather amazed by the fact I didn’t cut myself on anything. The van driver gets out of his car and takes stock of what happened. It takes him a moment to unfreeze and rush towards me. I walk until I stop a few steps away from him.

“What were you doing? Are you trying to kill me?” I scream at him angry and flustered.

“Oh my God!” he says, hands on his hair, eyes wide open. Then he frantically calls the emergency service.  I stand unmoving. Arms outstretched, palms up, half questioning his intelligence, half asking for an explanation.  He walks closer...

But then moves right passed me and I see what he’s looking at. Behind him lays my car - mangled and crumpled like a paper ball and from here I can just see inside it. On the tarmac beneath it I see some messy blond hair, almost looking like a scarf carelessly dropped. The blood stains almost forming a partner, but not quite.

Me.

And I knew it’s all over.

The driver didn’t hear me. I couldn’t turn off the radio or cut myself on all the glass because there was nothing touching it. So this was the other side.

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