And I woke up in a hospital bed, a pair of eggs had worked, it said this, it said when

they arrived on the scene, that there was only one person in the vehicle named, and that

I hit the tree going to anywhere from 60 to 60 feet miles an hour, there was no grace,

I didn't even try to stop. And when I hit that tree, that case of beer bottles, that was

behind her. I had to pour it forward at impact. And then a woman named Priscilla, who didn't

ever seat belt on, I had to pour it forward at impact. And that thing called the windshield

in your car. And that case of beer bottles met with Priscilla in the twin. And she slid

down to the floorboard, and her neck rested on the middle console.

So I stayed up all night that night, and you know what, the paper had read to lifeline

in a serious accident, took it to a part of your hospital. Nobody would tell me if she

was alive, if she was dead, I had no idea, but I knew the paper said to them that morning,

and if she was alive, if she passed away, the paper would probably say something next

morning.

The paperman shows up at like 4 a.m. He comes driving by, everything slows down like

a movie. He rolls the window, and he throws the paper at its bone. I jump up, grab it,

and rubble in the rubber band, roll it open, and there's the headline, crash, victim dies.

And at 23, choices and decisions that I made. Priscilla Owens lost her life. She was a mother

of two, she was a daughter, and she was a sister.

Never did I think when I was in the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth grade that at 23, I'd be responsible

for taking the life of somebody.

What happened though is the family wanted me to contact them right after that, and I called,

and what do you say to that? You know, what do you say I'm sorry? But I called, and the

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