“It had been about two hours of driving. At least I thought so. The radio blasting 93.5 at volume 10. Samantha hummed the music. I glanced at the rear view mirror that welcomed me to a rainy evening in fall.”
It had been about two hours of driving. At least I thought so. The radio blasting 93.5 at volume 10. Samantha hummed the music. I glanced at the rear view mirror that welcomed me to a rainy evening in fall.
Driving through Fort Sphere Woods always made me think of when Samantha and I would come here as little girls who would play in the leaves and find an abandoned shed while searching for frogs. We never got to see what was in that shed, I mean, not that we cared. As I dozed off, Samantha tapped me to turn the music on louder. Just as we heard “On the hill”, our favorite childhood song, Samantha reminded me of all our young moments together. Her ludicrous laugh always made me laugh as well. I was disappointed that my best friend was going to another school. Yet I felt proud and excited for her to be starting a new life. Her school was Richwood Staren School. An elite boarding school. All of a sudden, from a distance, I saw those blue and red flashing lights that never mean something good.
The car still going at 87, I looked out the window to see the police cars, two… three… four…
I woke up on a bench to the sounds of sirens. I got up and tried to walk. Stumbled a bit but accomplished. I got up, walked towards the car, and it looked like my car had been hit by the street pole. I got up to walk around the car.
Just then, an officer held my arm and yelled, “Ma’am, stay seated. We will be right with you.”
As an ambulance arrived, two paramedics came out and approached me. They carried me onto the ambulance and checked me for anything. I asked to be excused and used a porta potty in the ambulance. I glanced in the mirror and saw that the side of my head was bleeding. Dizzy more than ever, I shivered and walked back to the paramedics. That’s all I remember.
I woke up in a hospital bed where I was greeted by doctors. One officer in the room asked me to sit up, and next thing I knew, he informed me that Samantha was dead. And that she had been dead for about four days now. I had been in a coma for four days. I held back more tears than my body could handle, my stomach falling into pieces.
“Sir, I really don’t understand.”
Not being able to interpret what happened, police officers yelled and yelled at me to admit that the murder was on purpose.