By ARIYANA ASH
Gazing into the light, I remember the car crash. The sharp squeal of the tires on the concrete as my father cried out, clutching his bloodied arm. The deafening wails of the ambulance. The shattering of glass as the car swerved and rolled. But as I look to the glowing light, I see promise. I see a happy future ahead of me. The light brightens and I know that everything I love will await me.
I can already envision everything I was promised. The quiet rolling waves, the sand toasty beneath my feet. My personal paradise. I won’t have to suffer anymore. The woman in white promised me. She stroked my hair and told me all my pain would dissipate if I followed her. She said all of my dreams would come true. She told me I wouldn’t have to starve myself to perfection, that I wouldn’t have to hear my parents fight anymore; that I wouldn’t have to hear the whispering in my head anymore, compelling me to do terrible things. “Everything will be perfect. Just end it,” she soothed me.
While we sped along the freeway, I knew what I had to do. Unbuckling my seatbelt and leaning over, I yanked the emergency brake.
As I ascend to the warm, ethereal light, I smile to myself and know I will finally be happy.