Welcome smartass

My first thought was “that would make a great opening scene for a movie”.

If I ever have to write a scene where the main character hits a 20 something year old woman with his car in the middle of the night, I would know what it feels like. I could take inspiration from this very moment of my life and it would make the most authentic, gut wrenching collision scene ever.
But I’m not a writer. Well, not really.
I wish I were.
I got rejected from film school and I turned to journalism. I gave up on journalism and now I work a decent job that I don’t like because it isn’t film making or journalism.
I’m not good at writing anyway. I could just keep driving, nobody saw me. My trauma isn’t traumatizing enough, my depression isn’t depressing enough and my parents weren’t completely horrible. I have nothing to write about.
I could just drive away. Nobody saw it happen. I won’t do it. They would track it back to me, it’s 2024, the police know who was where, when. They would check my phone’s GPS and they would find out I drove on this road tonight and suspiciously stopped at this exact point. I don’t even know if a GPS can do that but I’m not seriously thinking about it. It wouldn’t be right. I’m not like this. What I will do is call the police and say I’m sorry, which I am.
I’ll say I didn’t see her because it’s dark, the street is lit but it’s pretty dim and why was she walking on the road anyway. She was hitchhiking and she got closer to make sure I could see her in my headlights. I didn’t.
I will say that I’m sorry and that I didn’t see her.
It was an accident.
I don’t have to say I was looking at my phone. It would only make things worse for me and it wouldn’t make things easier for her because she’ll be dead either way.
I wonder what the penalty is for texting while driving. It doesn’t matter actually because it’s not just texting while driving it’s aggravated manslaughter.

Fuck!

It was an accident.
And I wasn’t really texting.
My phone was on the dashboard, I used the GPS and I got distracted because my ex sent me a message.
I didn’t recognized her right away so I took a second look and that’s how it happened. The cops don’t have to know.
It
was
an
accident.
We haven’t talked in years. She changed her picture. It’s a picture of her as a kid, blowing a raspberry.
I never saw a picture of her as a kid before.
She didn’t change much. It’s a new name too. She always uses strange nicknames on social media because she doesn’t want people to know her real name. I know her real name. A lot of people do, I’m not special.
The message said “Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you. I was...” I wonder what she was. I want to know what it’s about but it wouldn’t be right to read it now.
Sitting in my car after hitting a twenty something year old woman in the middle of the night, blissfully reading my messages while I wait to get arrested for aggravated manslaughter.
I don’t even know if she’s dead.
She doesn’t look alive.
I should get out and check on her but what if she
really
is
dead.
Maybe she’s just knocked out.
Maybe she’ll just need crutches and
a few months of rehabilitation and
she’ll be good to go.