It sounded like a cracking whip amplified by one hundred. Ten fingers and ten toes, no broken bones; Shattered glass strewn about the car and all over my lap.
I ached all over but not enough to want attention, not enough to want your pity. Gotta be strong; be calm, cool, collected.
I made the statement to the police officer and tried not to be angry, tried not to blame her for being careless, young and scared.
A stiff neck brace and seventeen x-rays later I still tried to be tough, but today, I’m not and I refuse to pretend.