Gone

             Water, in the front, back, and in-between, there was only water. She instinctively gasped for air upon becoming conscious, still unaware of the state she was in. The car was almost completely full of water. She tried to open the door or break the window, but the pressure was too immense. Her body became a vessel for the fresh lake water, every orifice succumbing to the liquid atmosphere. It was over, just like that, before she knew what happened or was given a chance to change her fate.  All that remained on land were pieces of shattered headlights and of the bridge her car busted through. The patches of ice on the road glistened against the setting sun, glowing a bright amber. The tire marks from her car left a dark stain across them. As paramedics and police arrived at the scene, it was easy to decipher what had happened there. She watched as they noticed the marks over the ice, the broken bridge, and the hood of the white SUV in the lake. The car was removed from the lake, and the body was moved to a hospital. They were able to identify her based off her drivers license and contacted the family immediately.  

            Lying awake, eyes glued to the ceiling, she restlessly awaits. She awaits the sunrise and the chimes of ear piercing alarms to go off. She craves the morning because then she doesn’t feel so alone. At night, everyone finds peace in their temporary comas. If only she could relish in such pleasures. A rustling arises from the spot next to her. A man lies, enchanted in sleep, facing her side of the bed. His raven waves drape across his forehead and his full lips gently part. He rests on one of his lean arms as the other reaches across the bed. She watches him slowly breathe, in synch with her own breath.  “Michael,” she softly whispers, knowing he can’t hear her.  She gives up for the night and turns away from him. Curled up in a fetal position, eyes shut, she cries tears that don’t come out.