The Beauty of Dying Young
Carlee Russell
Professor Rita Wisdom
English 1301-DL
September 22, 2012
The Beauty of Dying Young
I woke up knowing in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong. I shot up from bed, like a jack that finally got to jump from his box, to check my phone. As I picked up my phone, there was a sort of numbness in my body that I had never felt before. As soon as the screen lit up, everything around me seemed to dim into a murky blur. There were calls and text messages from all of my friends from camp… except my best friend, Amber. The morning of June 10, 2012, was the day I found out that my best friend, Amber, had died.
All of the voice mails and text messages said the same thing, “Carlee, I don’t know if you have heard, but Amber was drinking and driving last night and crashed head on with an 18 wheeler on highway 11.” I couldn’t put thoughts together to make sense of what I had just read. My head slowly fell, and my tear soaked face landed into my shaking palms. My body was numb, but my mind was racing with thoughts of sadness, guilt, fury, and confusion. The truth is, I was supposed to be with Amber the night she died. Something inside me told me not to go the night before her accident. The first thought that ran into my mind was that I should have been in that car with her when she had her accident.
Then I told myself, “If I would have been there, she wouldn’t have been drinking and driving at all.”
I immediately felt responsible for what had happened. The world around me turned into a type of Hell. Nothing seemed to be bright and colorful anymore; the flowers next to my bed had turned a shade of grey, the bright green rug on my floor looked almost brown, and the light from my lamp didn’t illuminate my room the way it did the day before. Looking around I felt the walls of my bedroom start to cave in, and I knew I needed to get away.
I decided to drive to Amber’s hometown, Hughes Springs, for a few days. I couldn’t miss her memorial service,
Professor Rita Wisdom
English 1301-DL
September 22, 2012
The Beauty of Dying Young
I woke up knowing in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong. I shot up from bed, like a jack that finally got to jump from his box, to check my phone. As I picked up my phone, there was a sort of numbness in my body that I had never felt before. As soon as the screen lit up, everything around me seemed to dim into a murky blur. There were calls and text messages from all of my friends from camp… except my best friend, Amber. The morning of June 10, 2012, was the day I found out that my best friend, Amber, had died.
All of the voice mails and text messages said the same thing, “Carlee, I don’t know if you have heard, but Amber was drinking and driving last night and crashed head on with an 18 wheeler on highway 11.” I couldn’t put thoughts together to make sense of what I had just read. My head slowly fell, and my tear soaked face landed into my shaking palms. My body was numb, but my mind was racing with thoughts of sadness, guilt, fury, and confusion. The truth is, I was supposed to be with Amber the night she died. Something inside me told me not to go the night before her accident. The first thought that ran into my mind was that I should have been in that car with her when she had her accident.
Then I told myself, “If I would have been there, she wouldn’t have been drinking and driving at all.”
I immediately felt responsible for what had happened. The world around me turned into a type of Hell. Nothing seemed to be bright and colorful anymore; the flowers next to my bed had turned a shade of grey, the bright green rug on my floor looked almost brown, and the light from my lamp didn’t illuminate my room the way it did the day before. Looking around I felt the walls of my bedroom start to cave in, and I knew I needed to get away.
I decided to drive to Amber’s hometown, Hughes Springs, for a few days. I couldn’t miss her memorial service,