"Morgan," I yelled over the blasting punk rock,"you are going to get us killed if you drive any faster!"
Brown strands of hair were whipping at my face. With the top down, Morgan's car was like being caught in a tornado, but louder.
"We're fine! I can drive better than you, thank you very much!" Her voice was barely audible over the booming music and rushing wind.
"If I die, I am so suing you!"
"You'll be dead. I don't think that's possible!"
"How would you know?"
"Just a guess," she said in her most often used sarcastic tone. We laughed at the thought of it all. It was just a joke. No one was actually supposed to die.
It was only three minutes later that a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road crashed into Morgan's BMW. The impact alone crushed one of Morgan ribs. She ducked in pain as the glass from both cars shattered. A shard cut my face, then my shoulder and finally a large piece hit my chest. It was a bulls-eye shot to my heart. My lungs begged for air that wasn't coming. With every thump of my heart I died a little more.
Morgan, with a cast on her left arm, sat next to Cody who sat next to Stephen and Jackson. They sat next to five other teenagers. The front row was full. So were ten other rows. Behind them, even more teenagers, mixed with adults, stood.
There were people I didn't even recognize.
No one spoke. Every so often there was a sniffle here and there to break the uneasy silence. Morgan sat silently while tears ran down her rosy face. Even while she was crying, her face was stern with strength. Only a few people other than I knew how weak she could become. She held that face so well. Cody was fidgeting with his fingers as he stared blankly into the deep hole. He always had been the panicky type. Jackson teared up every once in awhile and he would quickly wipe away the sadness with his jacket sleeve. I knew he wasn't as tough everyone thought he was. Two A.M. phone calls had proven that in eighth grade. When he was tired he sang his ABC's and when I was sad he got nervous. Crying was like a disease that he didn't want to catch. It made me wonder how he must feel now.
Then there was Stephen. I had almost hoped he would cry, but he didn't. Stephen sat between Cody and Jackson without movement. He stared off into nowhere, letting his tear free blue eyes wander in their own little world. His face was stern with a purposely serious face. It seemed that even at my funeral, Stephen would never cry over me.
He never had, never would.
I was in my coffin. I knew that. My unmoving, scratched up, and helpless body was right there. It lay pale and serious, two things I never was in my life. This was my funeral and my parents sat in the very back, too pained to be any closer to their little girl. Daddy held Mom close as if he was afraid of losing her, too. Mom cried and cried. Her face was constantly submerged in her own shaky hands. I watched as Daddy's face switched in a never-ending cycle from sad,to serious.
His baby would never hug him again.
My two older sisters stood behind Mom and Daddy with one hand on either parent and one on each other. No one expected me to be the first to die. I didn't exactly expect it either. The fact of the matter was that Eliza Bock was dead and currently being lowered into the ground.
I was being lowered into the ground.
Everyone only stared as I descended lower and lower into my hole. Morgan's green eyes began gushing out tears and she nestled her head into Cody's shoulder. I knew that my best friend must be thinking this was all her fault, but it wasn't.
The whole ordeal was unbelievable. A sixteen year old girl,me,having and untimely death. And yet, somehow, I was still there. In the crowd, but also above it. Watching people I cared about cry. But I was dead, wasn't I? I was supposed to be long gone. In some kind of heaven or hell, but I was still there among the living. Tears wanted to well up in my eyes, but didn't. Shivers wanted to run down my spine, but couldn't. All I could feel were my emotions. I looked down and saw a body, but could not feel it.
My mind told the unfeeling body to move forward, and it did, but I couldn't feel the dewy grass under my feet. I told it to move faster, and I was flying, floating, running, whatever I did, quicker than was humanly possible. In less than three seconds I had exited the funeral area and was quickly moving towards the road. I moved so fast that it seemed the cars next to me were at a stand-still. In almost a minute I was staring at my beautiful blue house. Looking at the life I had lived only a few days earlier, knowing that I never would live it again.
