I was a bloody mess. After the 12 car pile up in the freeway, it was a miracle I was

even conscious, albeit just barely. There was only one hospital within a 30-mile radius,

so all of us were sent there, some via ambulance, others via helicopter.

Overwhelmed with the influx of patients, the staff scattered all over us. I was in a bed

normally reserved for the lesser injured out in the foyer, as were some of the others

involved in the crash. We were separated only by thin curtains, a surgical team struggled

to keep us breathing. If I'm being honest, at the time, I couldn't

even remember my own name, that alone what had happened. It all felt so surreal, like

a dream I couldn't wake up from. We're losing her. Those were the first three words

I comprehended, since arriving at the hospital. They came from a doctor operating on a young

girl in the bed to my left. Through blood vision and a small gap in the curtains, I could

just make out of features. She was maybe 60 years old with long blonde hair, bloodied

and in critical condition. She looked so familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. As I

stared, it came to me. My daughter. Yes, my daughter. She looks just like her. That was

it. She reminded me of my daughter, Leslie. I smiled, but then I remembered last time I

saw her. She was in a casket, as she and my wife were both lowered into the earth, victims

of a car accident themselves. I don't know. Did I cause this? Was I trying to kill myself?

That's the pieces were coming back to me. I remembered the accident. Though, I couldn't

quite place how it all started. Still, it posed the question, did I do this to be with

them? Did I want to die the same way they did? No, no. I can't be. I would never purposefully

harm others. Unless, I was intoxicated. I could now taste it. The faint leftover residue

of alcohol on my tongue. Oh God, no, please no. What have I done? Just then, the sound of

...