“Do you really have to go?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a pleading statement made in desperation. I was visiting my boyfriend up in St. Louis and, of course, he didn’t want me to leave. But I had to. School called me back down in Florida while he was stuck in the Midwest, as the DJ career is not a very lucrative one in the beginning. We both wished so much for him to follow me down to Florida, but he was stuck financially. The fact that I was visiting during winter didn’t help much. It was one of the most depressing seasons and leaving him right before the holidays probably tore him up more than anything.

“You know I can’t,” I sighed, “I still have two more years. Just two! After that, we’re set,” I tried to sound positive, but two years was such a long time. Who knows what could happen in that time.

He responded by pulling me in for a tight hug. His hat rubbed against mine as we tried to conserve body heat, sitting on a metal picnic table in the middle of a park at night. The streetlights illuminated the snow to a sparkling gold color. It would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t so cold, but two feet of snow covered in a sheet of ice tends to lean toward the chilly side.

We leaned on eachother for a little longer before I pulled out to check my phone: 11:30 pm. I had to go. It was a 12 hour drive and I never like driving icy roads with other drivers. Reluctantly, I sighed deeply and moved to get up. Standing a full foot taller than me, Scott stood up and pulled me into yet another 6’ 6” bear hug.

“You’re squishing my inards, Scotty,” I chuckled. He finally let go and looked deeply into my eyes. He was always so much more mushy and lovey than me. The soft-spoken giant complemented my short sarcastic self perfectly. His icy blue eyes locked onto my emerald ones.

This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. I’m pretty adaptable. You can plop my happy ass anywhere in the world and I’d be fine, but ever since I’d been with Scotty, I felt different. There was somebody who loved me, and I loved them back. It physically hurt to be away for as long as we usually were, and seeing eachother 5 days a year does not a relationship make. We were just trying to get me graduated and then we could be together again. But like I said before, two years was a long time.

I was tired of his sappy love/death-glare. After fidgeting and avoiding eye contact, I reached up and snatched his cap off, letting his bouncy brown curls fly free. “I’ll be back before you know it!” I stood on my tiptoes as I ruffled his hair. He didn’t share my dopey grin though. He chuckled a bit but it was forced, as was his half-smile. His eyes were as sad as ever.
“Oh come on, please,” I said, backing up to my car, skullcap still in hand, “please don’t make this hard on me. We’ll Skype on Christmas, how’s that sound?” Christmas was just two days away, once again, how much worse could this situation get?
“I know, but we always Skype. I want you instead of just a video of you for Christmas again.”

I groaned as I opened the door to my blue Grand-Am, “Eh… I can’t. You know that. I have to start looking for a job or something, then maybe I can stay long enough for Christmas,” I began humming All I Want for Christmas is You, “I could even sit under the tree with a bow on my noggin for when you wake up, eh? How does that sound?” I was actually in the car now and started the engine.

He stuffed his hands in his sweatshirt’s front pocket and gave a legitimate chuckle, finally. His demeanor was changed, still sad, but less so, as he walked up to my window. Rolling down the window, I heard him say, “Fine, only if you promise,” he winked, eliciting rancorous laughter from me at the innuendo. “Now give me my hat back,” he held out his hand. I obliged and held out his skullcap.

When Scott went to retrieve his belonging, I grabbed his hand and yanked him down to my level. Who ever said I wasn’t romantic? Well, they were telling the truth. I quickly pecked him on the lips and then promptly smashed the cap in his face. Grabbing the gearshift, I jammed it in reverse and arced around him, pausing only to put it in drive. During that pause, I heard him yell something akin to “be careful”, to which I responded with a middle finger and peeled out of the parking lot. Honestly, I had no clue what he saw in me, but I was thankful for whatever it was.

Unsurprisingly, the roads were free of almost any other cars, which was a good thing considering how much I was fishtailing on streets. Since Scott lived (and I used to as well) in a small town outside of St. Louis, I had to take a long, winding, 2-lane back road to get to the interstate. Knowing these roads like the back of my hand, I gunned it to about 50mph. Any other time it would have been fine, with the layer of ice on the roads, it was really stupid. I didn’t care though. It may not have shown on the outside, but I was really upset. I had to leave the only person I have ever loved more than my own mother, and who loved me back, for at least another 7 months. It hurt.

With the bluffs on one side of me and rolling, frozen fields on the other with holiday music playing, it was really quite picturesque. That is, until I went to turn. Thank the gods the bluffs were on the inside of the turn, but it’s still not that great getting into a wreck at 60 regardless of what hit.

Taking the turn, I started to fishtail. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal had the field been level with the road. Had that been the case, I would have drifted sideways on to slicked-over dirt until I came to a stop. But as my luck would have it, Murphy was work when he sent my car flying sideways off the road onto the field which lay about five feet below the banked curve.

The car hit squarely with the driver’s side down and started flipping. Contrary to popular belief, “doing a barrel roll” is not as fun as the internet would have you believe. My heart leapt into my throat and I lost all conscience awareness of what was happening around me. All I knew is that I had rolled off of a hill and was now upside down.

Cracking my right eye open just a hair, I looked up. Or would it be down? The car’s roof was now on the ground with me hanging in my seatbelt. 'Shit' was all I could think. It was going to cost a fortune to get a new car (I was in college afterall). The radio crackled as All I Want for Christmas is You in some kind of cruel irony as the open door signal beeped and light shone.

I’d been in one crash only once before. I was rear-ended at a red light by a Yukon. It smashed my compact to bits, which is why I had the Grand-Am. I wasn't beat up too bad from that; just a bit of whiplash and a scratch on my face. Oh, did I say a “bit” of whiplash and “scratch”? I mean my neck was painfully bent backwards and my eyebrow had a huge gash, mere millimeters from my actual eyeball. I was still on medication for my neck and the scar was fresh on my eye, and that was 2 years prior. I figured my neck was going to be pretty messed up this time if all of that came from a fender-bender.

I started to lift my hand to my pocket to get my phone for help, but quickly realized I couldn’t. My hand didn’t move even a little. I was confused at first, but quickly realized what was wrong as the pain set in. So much pain, I couldn’t even begin to describe it. I took a few calming breathes as my heart rate sky-rocked so I could take stock of my injuries.

'Oh God…' I noticed blood. On the roof of the car were millions of tiny crystal beads from the shattered windows, and all of the ones directly below (above?) me were tinted pink. My head was hanging limply and inclined slightly up (down?) so I could see my hands, also hanging limply, lightly brushing the glass. The pink tint quickly turned into a full on puddle of blood as it started dripping down my face. I could feel all of it flowing; most of it from my gut and some from my face. Again, the left side of my face seemed to be leaking my life juices, just as it had in my last crash, but with much more vigor.

Dumbfounded for a moment, I watched as a trail of blood began to descend up my arm I felt trickle from my stomach. It creeped to my elbow, my wrist, my hand, the glass. Wait… IS THAT MY HAND?! I screamed internally, forgetting the “calming breathes” I’d taken earlier as I noticed the mincemeat that was left of my left hand. It just looked like a red, pulpy mess at the end of my red-streaked arm. Was my hand even still there? I had no clue.

Then I lost it. The pain came in a fresh agonizing wave. I finally felt the painful numbness of my “hand”, my swollen-shut eye, and whatever had happened to my midsection. Opening my mouth to scream, I gaged as more blood poured out of my mouth. Really, it was quite an alarming amount that came out of my mouth. As I choked on said blood, more pain ignited in my gut, causing more blood to be forced up through my throat. See the painful cycle I was going through here?

In excruciating pain, spasming, and unable to breathe, I finally stated to drift to sleep. I was scared of dying. There was so much I had yet to do! I hadn’t gotten my degree, made the millions of dollars I planned on making, bought a sports team and filled it with shitty players, gone skydiving… told Scott I loved him. That one really got me. He told me plenty of times that he loved me, but I always responded with “ditto” or “likewise” or “congratulations, get me a sandwich”. Why hadn’t I just said those three dumb words?! They probably meant the world to him, but I was afraid to say them. Why? Why hadn’t I listened to him? Whatever the reason, it was too late now.

It was obvious that my heart was slowing down. I could both feel and see it in the puddle of drippings. About half of my vision was black now. I was fighting as hard as I could. I didn’t want to die! Who the fuck actually wants to die?! Life was too fun, like going 60 around hairpin turns with ice on the roads… yeah.

Finally, my vision was gone. I drifted into complete darkness as the song finished playing on the staticy radio. Fuck you Mariah Carey.

Something was poking me. It was really annoying. I tried to swat whatever it was away from my side but pain instantly shot through my… well… everything. I was sucked back in to reality painfully fast. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t make sound, too much pain. Lots of pain going on here. It was surprisingly easy to suppress said pain for some reason. I felt sort of tingly, but in the back of my mind I knew how much I really hurt. Don’t get me wrong, if I could speak, I’d be screaming my face off right now. Anyway…

My mind was completely numb as I peeked open my right eye. When I did, I realized two, confusing as hell, things: 1- I was laying on my back on grass as opposed to hanging upside-down in an overturned car, it was still night and frosty though, and 2- The thing that was poking me was an animal, but not just some random wild animal. Oh no, there was a, I kid you not, gryphon nudging my side with his talon.

Ha! I tried to laugh. Either I was dead and seeing things or dying and seeing things. Regardless, this was insane. I guess bloodloss led to be a bit giggly, because I actually tried to laugh at the fact that there was a mythical creature poking my bloodied corpse. Instead of giggling though, I wound up in the circle of painful choking again.

Apparently, the gryphon hadn’t noticed me spying on him, as he (I think it’s a he) suddenly jerked his talon away and his head whipped around to look at me. His ice blue eyes locked with my one, good eye. They looked caring as his feathery eyebrows were pressed deeply into thought and concentration. Aw fuck, I thought, am I hallucinating that Scotty’s a gryphon? Who does that?! At first I thought I actually was hallucinating as the thing’s beak moved to say something which I couldn't hear in the least bit. He noticed my lack of acknowledgment and pointedly repeated what he said very slowly. Maybe if he didn’t have a damn beak I could figure out what the hell he was trying to say. Noticing my lack of response, again, he nervously looked around. Did he bring someone? Eh, what do I care, I’m dying anyway.

I was still locked in the choking on blood sequence. He finally pulled himself from looking around and put one talon behind my neck and one under my knees. His beak was moving again, slowly, but I still had no clue what the fuck he was saying. Moving extremely slowly, he lifted me up as he stood on his hind legs. 'What the…' I started, before I noticed his massive wings unfurl. Best. Hallucination. EVER!

In one downbeat we were airborn. I was completely numb so I had no clue if the way he held me was uncomfortable or not. I thought I was cold, but that was probably just shock. The only downside to the shock was that I couldn’t feel his feathers. He was holding me close to his chest and they looked soft as hell. Had I been able to move, I’d probably nuzzled them. Is that weird? What did I care, I was dying. After all that blood I lost, I couldn’t not die.

I really wanted to look around at what it looked like free-flying, but just like I couldn’t nuzzle his feathers, I sure as hell couldn’t turn my head. I didn’t have to worry about making the journey to gods-know-where without a good view for long though, as within seconds of taking off into the air I slipped back into the blackness that was unconsciousness.
Huh… dying, being saved by a mythical creature, then dying again… what a weird night.