She's Gone By

Schuyler  

Bailey screamed and our car jerked to a stop. From then on, everything seemed to slow down before my eyes. I saw the girl run across the street and slam into a car ahead, sending her flying up into the air like a rag doll. She landed on her head with a thud.

"It's okay, girls. Get the blanket out of the back. Hurry!" Mrs. H said. She was calling 911. Everything seemed distant; it was like watching a movie. Bailey pulled me out of the car and my bare feet hit the cold sidewalk. Bailey's sobs filled my ears as we ran through the dark towards Kindra, the girl who had been hit.

Red blood was sliding smoothly from under Kindra's head. A clear fluid oozed from her nose, mouth, and ears. Bailey placed the blanket carefully over Kindra's crumpled body. I let go then, and silent tears streamed down my cheeks.

A few days later, I placed a silk-flower wreath near Kindra's memorial. Kindra had stayed alive for a few days after the accident, but she couldn't hold on. She was gone.

The cross was surrounded by flowers, cards, and bows. My wreath stood out among them. Two candles were glowing softly near the cross. I picked up the black pen, and wrote some thoughts on the cross, like so many others. I read what I wrote aloud.

"Dear Kindra. I'm sorry you died that way. I guess I'll see you in heaven. Love, Schuyler." I started to cry again, and Aubrey, my sister, put her arms around me.

"Let's go home," she whispered. We drove away. Even now, I still remember that accident. Kindra stands clear in my memory. Sometimes I dream about her. Sometimes I see her on the road with all that blood. Still, every month, I bring flowers to her memorial. I'm not really sure if I should remember this experience, but I know I always will.