The Crash
Hooooonk
I gripped the steering wheel, peeling my forehead from the hot sticky leather.
“Oh no,” I mumbled, bringing my fingers to my wet forehead. “Shit!”
I yanked my hand back, startled by the sudden tenderness.
What did I do?
I dropped my head against the wheel, thick fog rolling in. I let it take me, shutting my eyes tight to cull the dizziness.
Maybe it was out of the shame washing over me or the fact that my eyes had been glued shut by the blood trickling from the wound above my hairline, but I refused to open up to the mess I inevitably created.
