Short Story

Here’s another short story I wrote the other day. (Unedited) 

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A stranger. A stranger was the one who saved me that night. It started off as terribly as any day could. I got a phone call before 8 a.m. saying my big brother was in a car crash. He was most likely not going to live through the day. And being 10 hours away, I wasn't sure I would make it to the hospital he was at in time. But I tried anyways. I emailed my professors that morning to inform them of my situation. At that point I could care less whether or not they accepted my reason. I had a bag packed within ten minutes, and I was up and dressed, getting into my car within thirty minutes of my phone call. Tears were going down my face. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it. All I knew was that I had to get from Corpus Christi, Texas to Mansfield, Texas. Yes, that's about ten hours. It's Texas. What can you expect? I was driving through traffic, the cars disappearing from the freeway since my early morning departure missed the morning rush. It wasn't a very comforting drive. Once you got out of the city, it was quiet, empty, and lonely. Not good for a broken soul. I made it to Houston within 3 hours. I might have been speeding. I didn't know. I wasn't paying attention at the time. I must have looked a mess to those people when I walked into the McDonalds at the gas station to get me something quick to eat on the road. The cashier gave me a worried look. I ignored her. I filled my tank with gas, used the bathroom, got my food, then left without another thought. My time limit was strict. I couldn't waste time. My phone buzzed as I left Houston and my heart constricted. One hand left the steering wheel, shakily grabbing my phone from the empty drink console, and I glanced down. It was my mom. I wasn't sure I wanted to answer. I did anyways, not knowing what I would hear. "Hi mom." I say, my voice scratchy and forced. I haven't really talked most of the morning, just cried. I didn't realize I sounded like a dying frog. My mom, however, sounded just as bad as me. "Hi Willow. Where are you?" She asks and I swallow hard. Her voice didn't sound positive. The tone of her words felt defeated. "I'm out of Houston." My bland answer must have surprised her. "Don't you dare speed." She whispers, and I nod my head. I realized she couldn't see me. "I won't." I lied. "How is he?" I ask, knowing her two hour drive would grant her time to reach her son, and my dying brother. I regretted my question when I heard her cry. She was sobbing so terribly. I kept my eyes on the road, but my own eyes were blurring over. The cars on the road were blobs. I needed to see. By the time I wiped my eyes my mom was able to answer me. "He looks so bad, sweetie. He doesn't look like our Tyler." She whimpers and I swallow hard. I can't hear anything else. I mutter a goodbye before I hung up on her. I didn't want to think about that. I still had a long drive ahead of me. But every time my brother's image popped into my head after my conversation, I saw a mess of limbs and bones. I couldn't stop crying. I nearly crashed six times that day. Either I wasn't paying attention to others' movements or I was just past the point of caring, I didn't know. Angry and scared honks brought me out of my head and into reality. I had forgotten I was still driving. The only other stop I made was to fill up on gas again. My truck wasn't exactly the best on gas mileage. It pissed me off too. I could've been closer to Tyler had I not stopped for gas. I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and quickly parked. It was crooked parking, but at the time I didn't care. I texted my mom to tell her I was here and ran to the front doors. The sliding glass doors opened for me upon my arrival and I rushed to the front desk, demanding to know what room my brother was in. The receptionist took one look at my face before telling me what room he was in. She had someone lead me down the hall and into the elevator. My foot tapped against the floor as the elevator went up, the number 4 lit up on the buttons. As soon as the elevator doors opened I ran out, nearly knocking out three people in the process. My progress stopped when I came to the ICU doors, realizing I couldn't get in without permission. The nurse who guided me up came up behind me, passing me a sad look before she opened the doors, letting me in. "Room 12." She says and lets me go. I ran down the hall, my eyes scanning for the room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw my mother and father outside a door, crying into each other's arms. My throat dried up. Tears were coming back to my eyes. I took one step and felt weak. My father spotted me. At my expression, he guessed what I would've asked had I the words to. He shook his head. My knees buckled underneath me and I hit the tile floor. My hands were hot compared to the freezing floor, and the tears wouldn't stop. I didn't make it. I didn't realize I screamed until I felt two hands on my shoulder, and a voice asking me to stand and put my hands on my head. I stood but I don't remember doing so. A nurse stared at me with sympathy as my hands were forcefully put on my head to help me breathe. "I...I...ne-need, to s-see him." I stammer, my voice cracked and shaky. My face was on fire. I couldn't see straight. I barely noticed my parents still crying as the nurse led me to the room where my now dead brother laid. I walked into the room and I felt nauseous. My brother's body was on the bed, but I didn't recognize him at first. What was wrong with his head? Why is he strung up to so many different machines? Where was his heartbeat? I staggered to his side, looked down at him, and cried. There was no doubt about it. He was gone. "I'm so sorry Tyler!" I wail, sobbing hysterically into my hands. The next hour consisted of me, my mother, and my father crying in room 12. The smell in the room began to get bad. We didn't care. Doctors and nurses urged us to get out so they could cover his body. We didn't leave. People kept calling us to see what was going on. We didn't answer. When we finally left the room, all of us looked like ghosts with red eyes. I couldn't think straight. The nurses tried to get us to sit down, but I refused. I briefly remembered me telling my parents I needed air. Everything was a blur. I left the ICU and somehow made it down to the first floor. I knew people looked at me. But I could've cared less. The receptionist tried to call out to me but I zoned out, passing her like a zombie. I didn't think I had more tears to cry, but when I sauntered outside, a fresh patch of tears hit me.  It was already dark by this time, and the wind was chilly. I didn't care how cold it was, or how poorly dressed I was at the time. I turned left and kept going, not knowing what I was doing. I didn't see that I was going to be crossing a small intersection. I didn't see the green light that let cars zoom past. My brother would never see me graduate college. I would never see him succeed in his job. He was only a year and a half older than me. I wouldn't see him get married, or have kids, or become the best father in the world. He wouldn't see me get married either. I couldn't ever go to him for help or advice again. I couldn't talk to him just because he was my best friend. I couldn't see him again. The thought was unbearable. I didn't want to think that. Somehow, this was a joke. Or a dream. I would be waking up soon, in my apartment down in Corpus. I would text him when I woke up to be sure. He would text me back, saying he wasn't killed by a drunk driver this morning. He was okay. But another, more realistic part of my brain told me it wasn't a dream, or a joke. I hated that part of my brain. "Miss!" Why him? What did he ever do to deserve this? "Miss watch out!" I snapped out of my trance long enough to see headlights bearing down at me. And then I saw darkness. I was staring up at the dark sky, the only light the moon that was beginning its ascent into the sky. I looked to my side, seeing a man sitting beside me, breathing heavily. He looked scared out of his mind. He looked at me with wide eyes. "What were you thinking?? You walked right into traffic!" He shouts at me and I force myself to sit up, seeing we were both on the sidewalk. "What happened?" I asked. He looked at me confused. He must've noticed my state now, because his confused look changed to a worried look. "You walked right into the street. I called to you several times but you ignored me. I feared you were trying to end your own life and I jerked you out of the way." He explained in a gentle voice and I looked down. "If I died I would be with him." I said and the stranger gave me a strange look. "My brother was killed today." I explained and his face falls. I explained what happened, my day, and how I ended up here. I ended up crying again, and this stranger did something that amazed me. He gave me a hug, right there on the sidewalk. Both of us sitting, embracing, and looking awkward to everyone else who passed by and didn't see what happened. "I'm so sorry." He confessed and I cried into his chest, harder than I did in the hospital. Why was this stranger so comforting? "What's your name?" He asked me after awhile and I answered through sniffles and sobs. "Willow." "My name is Shane." He responded and I looked at him with shock. "That's my brother's middle name." I whispered, and Shane smiled. "It must be fate." He jokes and I felt my heart twinge. "But on a more serious note, Willow, I don't think your brother would've liked to see you this way. He probably was screaming your name too to make sure you didn't get hit. You can't let yourself be in that void where you can't see what's going on around you or else something is going to happen. You can't waste your life like that. He wouldn't want you to." Shane said and something clicked in my head. I began to wail, facing the sky as I did. I repeatedly began to apologize. To Tyler, to Shane, to my parents...to everyone. I didn't want to die. I just wanted Tyler back. But I can't die. That wouldn't do anything but cause them more pain. "Thank you." I cried to Shane, throwing my arms around him. He held me tightly that night, and let me cry all I needed. I don't remember how long we sat there, getting strange looks and cramps in our legs. He didn't once leave me. He saved my life that night. In more ways than one. He was just a stranger. That was three years ago. Now? Shane is going to be my husband. And at our wedding, we're going to have a designated seat of honor for Tyler. Shane once told me to share your story. I did, and it sounds something like this: A stranger saved my life that night. And on that night, more than one life-changing event happened to me.