Persephone
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A Dream That Haunts, A Night to Remember
By Persephone
It was one of those nights when everything felt just right. The air was refreshingly cool, the streets hushed yet alive with a subtle energy. We were making our way home after a simple dinner at our favourite Friday night spot, a cozy little restaurant that always felt like a second home.
The car's headlights sliced through the mist, casting elongated shadows across the deserted road. His hand rested casually on the gearshift, fingers drumming lightly to the familiar rhythm of the radio, a song that had been part of our lives for years.
"I'm really glad we decided to do this," he said, glancing at me for a fleeting moment before focusing back on the road. His tone was light, filled with contentment.
"Me too," I replied, a smile spreading across my face. I turned my gaze to the dark silhouettes of trees flanking the highway. The night was serene—almost as if it were wrapped in a protective bubble. But we all know how quickly that can change, don’t we?
We were just a few kilo-meters from home when everything changed.
The first thing that pierced the calm was the screech of tires, a sound that didn’t fully register until it was too late. A pair of headlights surged toward us from the opposite lane, racing and swerving wildly. My heart plummeted as the reality of the situation hit me.
“Look out!” I shouted, but the warning came too late.
The collision was a thunderous roar. An explosion of sound, metal crumpling, glass splintering—time warped in that horrific instant. The air filled with smoke and the acrid scent of burning rubber. I felt the force of the impact slam me against the seatbelt, a sharp pain radiating through my body as chaos enveloped us.
And then, there was nothing but silence.
I couldn’t tell how long it took for my eyes to flutter open. My vision was a blur, the world spinning as I struggled to grasp my surroundings. The car’s interior was cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the dashboard. My ears buzzed with a high-pitched ringing. My chest felt constricted, as if I were gasping for air. Yet, amidst the confusion, one thing stood out clearly.
Ben wasn’t moving.
“Ben?” My voice emerged as a choked whisper. Panic crashed over me like a tidal wave, yet my body refused to respond. I reached out, my hands trembling as I sought his arm, tugging it toward me.
He remained unresponsive.
“Ben!” I shouted, my voice rising in desperation, my heart thundering in my ears. I shook him, but he was lifeless, his head resting at an eerie angle. His once vibrant face was now pale and marred, blood trickling from a wound on his forehead. His lips had turned a chilling blue, and his chest lay still.
The car had ceased its chaotic spin, but the world around us was in disarray.
I fumbled for my phone, my fingers quaking as I dialed for help. I struggled to concentrate, to keep my composure, but everything felt like it was slipping away. The operator’s voice came through, muffled and distant, as I pressed the phone to my ear, my heart racing wildly.
"Help... Please, help... There’s been an accident. He’s... he’s not moving." I could barely comprehend my own words.
My gaze remained fixed on him. His body, once warm and alive, now felt so chillingly cold. The outside world seemed surreal, a distant echo. I could hear sirens wailing in the background, but they felt like they belonged to another reality, not ours. Not mine. Not Ben’s.
“Come on, Ben,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please, just breathe. You have to breathe.”
But he didn’t.
Time stretched endlessly. I tried to recall the first-aid training I had taken long ago, the lessons I thought I’d never need, now fading into a distant haze. I pressed my hands against his chest, searching for any sign of life, any hint of breath, but there was nothing. Just the heavy, oppressive silence enveloping us.
I kept speaking to him, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “Don’t leave me, Ben. Please… just stay with me.”
The sirens grew louder, piercing through the chaos. I could hear the screech of ambulance brakes and the hurried footsteps outside the car, but it felt like it was all happening in a distant reality.
I couldn’t let him slip away. I just couldn’t.
Yet, he was already lost to me.
The paramedics arrived, their movements quick and efficient, but the expressions on their faces told me everything I dreaded to hear. They worked tirelessly on him, but deep down, I sensed the truth long before they uttered it.
“I’m sorry,” one of them said softly, her tone both compassionate and resolute. “We did everything we could.”
I felt as if the air had been sucked from my lungs. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, as if I were suspended in a void, falling endlessly into despair.
A night to remember.
But not for the reasons I had ever envisioned.
This wasn’t how it was meant to end. It wasn’t supposed to be a tragic scene of twisted metal and shattered glass, a wrecked car and a shattered existence. It wasn’t meant to be like this, with me clinging to the remnants of a life we once cherished, fully aware that the night had come to a close, and Ben would never return.
And the most painful realisation? The most painful truth was that no matter how desperately I cried out, no matter how fervently I pleaded, nothing could undo what had transpired. I would never have the chance to say goodbye.
The world, in its harsh indifference, had taken him away from me.
A night to remember.
But not a night I would ever want to remember.
