Sometimes, in the morning when I wake up before you and you are lying next to me, smothered in sleep , with thick, sweet air keeping you warm and golden sun kissing your face…I look at you, lying they’re so quietly and I think ‘What if’. What if I never got in the car with you that warm summer’s morning, with the sun still hanging so low in the sky, as if it was almost to sleepy. What if you had sat in the front seat of that car, beside my mother and your persistent begging of me to sit in the back seat with you and keep you company had not worked? What if my hatred of seeing you clamber out of the car and walk into that homeless hostel got the better of me, if just for that one day, I would rather of had you go alone than watch your beautiful smile fade as you got further away from me and I would have to leave you, and that ache would rise up inside of my chest. What If I waved at my window as you and her drove away, and I turned to walk up my stairs and ran a hot bath, and let the heat wash me clean…only to receive a phone call, telling me that their had been an accident. I said ‘No’ to you so many times before I caved and agreed to go with you, and sit in the back and watch the space between us grow bigger and bigger as we got closer to where you had to live.
The front passenger seat was completely destroyed, caved in, just unrecognisable scrap metal, all the windows smashed and the car was on its roof. What if you had been in that seat instead of in the back with me, holding my hand as the car flipped and scraped and crashed? What if I killed you?