Sirens are sounding in the near distance. I can't move, for every one of my limbs is numb.  All I can see are shards of glass covered with the blood that was once mine, and then it goes black. I can still hear at this moment, but my sight and movement have become only a memory. The thuds of men, opening and closing the doors to the wailing truck, suddenly end. I know they are striding towards my overturned silver Volkswagen, for their voices amplify louder and louder. Paralyzed, my body sways to the rhythm of the rocking car, as two of the men open the silver doors imprinted with the front clip of the vehicle that hit me. I know I am pulled from the scene, for I feel two large, rugged hands grip my underarms as my feet plunge to the uneven surface. Confusion fills my mind as a familiar voice calls my name. “Audrey, is that you?”  I have heard that voice before, possibly a loved one or a curious neighbor trying to see who and what caused the backup on the road. Before I can answer, I am gently placed on a stretcher and taken to the nearby truck. Four simultaneous thumps shake the vehicle and a loud bang, possibly the closing of the iron doors, sends the driver a signal to begin the long journey to the local hospital.

My eyes slowly open to a squint, only to see a bright light implanted on the ceiling. I can hear the panicked tone in the voices of men and women, whose words are only mumbles. A mask is placed on my face, forcing me to inhale. As I breathe, my eyelids again become heavy, and I let them close, but not before I hear a soft beeping sound in the background growing faster.

Light, reflecting off the gloomy, white walls, hits my every limb, and wakes me up from a deep sleep. Pressure in my chest directs my eyes to a bandage, covering four stitches, which supposedly have sewn together a long cut in my skin. I am dressed in a hospital gown painted with pink flowers, and tied with only a single knot. The openness of the garment sends shivers down my spine, for the room is fit for a dead cow carcass hanging in a butchers meatlocker. A sharp, intense pain circles my bosom as I move to the side, causing an involuntary grunt to escape my lips. My clothes are neatly folded in a plastic bag placed on a chair in the corner of the empty room. As I try to regain my strength, I call for assistance. The doorknob slowly turns and the door pushes open, leading an older women into the room. Before I can slip a word off the tip of my tongue, the woman leaves, as if I am invisible.

An hour has passed, lying on the hospital bed, staring into the white ceiling. The pain has subsided just enough to walk stably. I stand, trying to ignore the pulling of the stitches in my skin, and untie the backing of the gown. As I let the fabric drop to my feet, I grab the plastic bag containing my clothes, and slowly guide the dirty dress over my head.

As I enter the waiting room of the hospital, I feel, once again, unseen. I call for the nurses, but all I receive are either blank stares, or silence. The sadness, chaos, and death the hospital brings, pushes me slowly out of the sliding doors, to the busy road across the street.

I sit on a bench in the open park to stare into the bright blue sky, but then a glare blinds my eyes. I turn to see the remains of my car being towed to the local junkyard. My conscious tells me to follow, but I decide to return to the hospital before a warrant is sent out to find my wandering self.

When entering the hospital, I once again hear the voice from the crash. It was stronger this time, clearer. “Where is my daughter?”, the woman screams, “Where is my daughter....”

“Mom?” I say. No response follows, as a nurse shows the panicked woman to a room. I run behind them, but the pain once again, pulls me back. I stand in the intersected hallway, trying to retrace the nurses footsteps, until I hear the weeping coming from the morgue. I follow her cries and nothingness of grief, only to find something that shook my very bones.

There, standing before me lays the pale, rested body that was once mine.