Cara | Part Five "Dani," Cara whispered. She longed to ask why she'd done this to her, why she hadn't steered the truck in another direction, when her mother returned, a green paper cup clutched in her pale hand. Her red finger nails glowed brightly against the dull color of the cup. Water sloshed over the brim of the cup as Ella saw Dani close to her daughter, and she threw her hand on her chest. As selfish as she was, she was still very protective of her daughter. "Get away from her," she hissed at the girl standing beside Cara's bed. "You nearly killed her once, I won't let you try again." A shadow of hurt flickered across Dani's dark face. She retreated to her chair, and stared at the ground, just as shaken as Cara. Cara again tried to speak, but instead a wheezing noice erupted from her throat, and she slipped into a blurry world of unconsciousness. Three days later, she was released from the hospital. Her wounds were healing nicely, the doctors told her, and she was the luckiest girl they knew. She'd just smiled weakly at them and nodded. She didn't feel lucky. She felt broken and torn and wounded- which she was. Her mother was silent for the ride home, and took surprising care for her daughter in the following week. Cara had never seen Ella care for anyone but herself. It was a shocking sight for the daughter of a usually selfish snot. If the care would continue, Cara didn't know, but she savored the near-love she received while it was being handed to her.

Cara | Part 4 A cold silence filled the hospital room. Cara managed to shift her body a little, so she could see the girl who did this to her out of the corner of her eye. The girl was perched on a ripped, blue hospital chair, her dark-skinned hands folded in her lap. Her shiny black hair poked out in all directions, curls falling all over her face in small ringlets. She was a pretty girl; plain, but bright. She wore all black clothes, but somehow something about her still shone. Cara's mother coughed a little, then swallowed hard. "You are a dreadful girl," Cara's mother spat suddenly. They were the only words she could manage. The boldness of the girl and the reality of the moment hit her all at once, like a rock thudding against her rib cage and sinking into her skin. She closed her eyes and sank deep into the chair beside her daughter's bed. The room suddenly felt tight and blue and cold. She tipped her head back and leaned against the wall, closing the world out. Her world had always been prim and trimmed and right, but now it had crashed in a little. Cara sucked in deeply, trying to cough out another few words. "Water," was all she managed. Her mother left to retrieve it, happy for the excuse to get away. With her mother gone, the girl stood and drew close to Cara's bed. "I'm Dani, by the way. I'm sorry."

Summer Pale skin, burnt brown in the sun. Dark blue eyes, sparkle in the ocean air. Curly yellow hair, flows behind her as she walks. Worn-in flip flops, leather smacking the board walk. Off-key singing, filling the road-trip car. Freckles, making homes on red cheeks and smiling faces. White sunglasses, perched upon shiny heads of hair. Free hearts, running wild through the sand. Summer, the months when we get away.

Cara | Part Three "Mommy?" Cara coughed into her sleeve, the one she could move. Hovering over her was her mother, concern painting her face. The woman's loose black curls fell into her eyes, and she pushed them back. "Baby, what happened?" She breathed. Cara sucked in a deep breath. Her mother wasn't the caring sort. Ella Machiavelli, mother of two, was the kind of woman who loved herself, and only herself. She only cared about her looks, her precious clothing, and of course, her cat Leotard. She was not made to be a mother. But she was one, anyway, and Cara was stuck with her. Cara tried to talk, but out came a weak croak of an answer. Her mother put her hands on her hips, impatient. "Well, talk already." Car tried to touch her throat with her left hand, which was surprisingly undamaged, trying to motion that she had no voice to speak. "I need you to answer me, Carabella. This isn't time for the silent treatment." Cara widened her eyes, frustrated and angry, when someone tore open the hospital curtains beside her bed. The loud ripping noise gave Cara a pounding headache, and she touched her head in agony, groaning. "Are you this chick's mom?" came an unfamiliar voice from the place beside Cara's bed. Cara could not turn to see the face that matched the voice. Her neck was in a thick cast. However, she listened intently. "Erm, yes," Ella replied. "I am her mother. Who might you be?" There was a careful, cold silence. "Well, ma'am," the voice said finally. It was a female's voice, Cara decided. "You see, I am the girl in the truck that plowed this girl's car down."

Cara | Part Two Cara awoke in a bright room, the whir of machines filling her ears. She tried to inhale, as was natural for her, but found breathing tubes attached to her nose & threaded through her lungs. She panicked for a moment. She didn't remember what had happened to her. Why did she need help breathing? The room came into focus and Cara tried to sit up to survey her surroundings. She started to push her body up on one elbow, but collapsed immediately with an intense pain shooting up her arm. She peered down and saw a dark blue cast hugging her right arm, from her hand to her shoulder. Panic seized her again. She thrashed her legs against the bed, but again was met with sharp, prickling pain that came in waves. Waves. The memories came flooding back. Stopping at the green light. Watching the seagull peck at it's dinner. The screams. Why hadn't she paid mind to the screams? It could have saved her. Cara started to cry. It started as tears slipping down her cheeks, which stung with salt, until the sobs turned into choking, snotty messes of grief. She shook her head from side to side, trying to bury the memories. A pulsing whooshed through her head, sending what seemed like thorns into her brain. Everything hurt. There wasn't a single part of her body that didn't shriek in pain. Cara was broken. Meanwhile, Cara's best friend Jessica paced her living room, biting her nails. She never bit her nails, unless something insanely nerve-racking was going on. This day fit those standards. Jessica tucked a red curl behind her ear, and inspected her torn fingernails. They had been long and shiny- perfect for the banquet- only an hour ago. Now she felt ugly and disheveled, but it hardly mattered. Cara was missing.