Collision: The Beginning: Part II

I stood on the side of the road, not sure how I got there, or if I did it alone. I wondered if I was alive or dead, for I spoke to no one, and no one spoke to me.

A severe pain hit my head, as if someone had stabbed a knife straight through my skull. I reached up, placed my hand flat against my head, holding it there until a watery substance ran down my arm.

I was afraid to move my hand, afraid of blood gushing from my brain, but when I pried my fingers away, it was only sweat, covering every crease of my palm.

I began to shake. Not just a tremor, but bone-rattling, teeth-jarring, shaking. In that instant, I knew I had changed.

I knew it by the veins that swelled in the heat of the day, by the way my body bent beneath the scorching sun, by the ache that pierced my heart. I knew it, because, for the first time in my marriage, I needed my husband.

It’s sounds almost immoral to say I’d never needed him before, but it was true. Fact is, I’d never needed anyone. Or at least, pretended not to.

But in that moment, with the sun beating on my back, and the earth tipping beneath my feet, I needed my husband more than I’d ever needed anything.

I reached for his hand, but it wasn’t there. Then it struck me, I hadn’t seen him, didn’t know where he was, or even if he was okay.