It was just like any other Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, parents were chasing their children at the park, dogs were barking. Nothing makes for a perfect day than spending the whole day out shopping.  It was a wonderful day. Until it wasn’t anymore. It was a normal drive back home when suddenly things started to change. The sun stopped shining and the sound of the birds chirping started to fade to silence. All there was for me to see were the dark and gloomy clouds rolling in. The scent of rain filling the air and the soft sounds of the raindrops hitting my windows getting louder and louder as I continue to drive. This rain turned into a downpour, a rainstorm. It wasn’t the sound of rain that I like to describe as nature’s song, it wasn’t the peaceful sounding rain to fall asleep too. No, this rain was worse than I have seen in a long time. Hail was now hitting my windshield, and I was having a hard time seeing where I am going. I was now serving.

It all happened too quickly. I didn’t notice the man that was trying to run through the crosswalk to the other side of the street. It was too late. I didn’t step on the breaks fast enough. I ran over him like he was a speedbump. I nearly crashed into a tree as I tried to slow down and pull over on the side of the road. Once I stopped, I was trying to calm down my breathing. But, my breathing only quickened when I realized exactly what just happened. I just hit a person with my car! “What do I do now?” I asked myself. Oh, right, maybe I should go check up on him to make sure he isn’t dead. Getting out of the car, I slowly begin to make my way over to where the man is lying in the road. I reach him and as I lower myself down to get a closer look at him, I can see that his eyes are closed and he is barely breathing. “Oh God I killed him!” As I stood in the middle of the road panicking, I didn’t notice the man open his eyes and begin to stir. 

“Help me…” he groans out in pain and agony. I jump in fear at the sound of his voice. Thank goodness, he’s not dead. I walk over to him, and now, once again lowering myself closer to him, I can see more of his body and the aftermath of what I had done to him. Blood was everywhere. It was forming a circle under him and all around him staining the road with a gruesome red. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you walking across the road through the rain” “It’s alright young lady, it wasn’t your fault, I should’ve let you drive by me first before walking across, I thought I would have enough time to make it to the other side. I guess an old man like me can’t run like I used to,” he chuckles and then cries out in pain right after. I tell him that I’m going to take him to the hospital so he can get help. I look around and notice that his belongings are scattered on the road. I thought to myself, “did I really hit him that hard that his stuff fell out of his pockets?” I guess so considering that he is literally bleeding out in front of me right now. Oh God, this isn’t good.

I begin to prepare myself to bring the man to my car. I first pick up his phone and wallet and shove them into my jacket pockets. As I am about to pick the man up, I notice something in the distance: headlights. Another car is driving their way over here to the scene of the accident. Now is not the time for anyone else to be here. “Shit…what do I do now?” To my left, the man is slowly bleeding to death, and to my right, there is another car coming my way. My anxiety is getting to me and I’m now having a full blown anxiety attack. This doesn’t make the situation any better because now I can’t think straight. My vision is going blurry. I act on impulse and start dragging the man across the street to the woods, smearing the blood as we go. I go to my car and grab a shovel from my trunk. I don’t even know why there’s a shovel in there in the first place, considering it’s summertime and there’s no snow. We make it far enough into the woods without being seen by the other car. I guess they didn’t care about all the blood in the street as they just kept on driving and not bothering to stop. Talk about minding your own business. 

I start to dig. And I dug until the hole was big enough. Giving one last look at the hole I just made, I walk behind the man and roll him. The sound of his ear-piercing scream of pain never leaving my mind as I begin to refill the hole with the ruined dirt. I collapse to the ground once I’m all finished. I couldn’t move. It’s like my body went paralyzed. It was getting darker out now, and the rain was still happening. I look down at myself; I’m soaking wet, covered in mud, and the man’s blood. All I wanted to do was erase this from my memory, and forget this all happened. But, that’ll never happen. I get back into my now dented car and drive back home.

Home. It was such a bittersweet place to be. As I got older, I noticed just how empty my house really was. I’m an only child so I didn’t have any siblings to come home to and hang out with. Yeah, I have friends who come over sometimes, but they only agree to come over because of how big my house is, which consists of having an indoor and outdoor pool. Sure, it’s fun when they come over, but sometimes I feel left out, even in my own house. Growing up, I always dealt with having social anxiety, so I was never the best at making friends. I was also homeschooled all my life because my parents thought it would be best if I stayed home and traveled with them to all their business meetings, instead of having a nanny to take care of me. I never liked going on these business trips because of my anxiety. Being in front of thousands of people scared the shit of me. There was only one person who made me feel better about myself, and who would also reassure me that everything would be alright: my father.

My father was my best friend. We did everything together. He was the only person who understood my struggles with anxiety. He was the owner of Martin’s Psychology Center. He was the one who diagnosed me with anxiety. He started his own business when he was only 23 years old. Then, he married my mother, Heather, when they were 24 years old. They met in college in one of their psychology classes. At age 24, they had me. Right from the start my father became my go to person. He would be the only person I would want to be around. I was never that close to my mother growing up. I think she resented having me, but she never said that out loud to me, but I just have a feeling she does. She would never tell me that she loved me or asked me how my day was, never caring about me. Unlike my father who made sure I was his first priority before he did anything. Now, it’s just me and my mother. My father was the one who supported my decision to attend college. I wanted to be just like him, so I went in with a major in psychology, hoping to one day be the owner of his business. Unfortunately, my first year of college did not go as planned as I wanted. Three months into the semester, I got one of the few phone calls from my mother to come home immediately, that my father had passed away in his sleep.

I dropped out of college after the funeral. I fell into a hole of depression. My best friend was gone. He was gone for good and I would never see him again. I would never get to hear his voice again telling me everything was going to be alright. I wish he was here right now as I desperately need him here with me to help me through the situation that happened earlier today. I just need to hear his voice telling me I will be okay, and hold me while I cry in his arms. I could never have this type of relationship with my mother. She would just turn me into the police, not caring that she’s throwing her only daughter in jail. She always thought I was a disappointment. Always thought that I was faking my anxiety for attention. She’s the one who is also seeking attention everywhere she goes.