I ran in front of her car that night and I saw her die as she swerved, trying not to hit me. I saw her face from afar, sleepy she was, her head dosing and dropping. I had waited long for the perfect victim.
I screamed when she saw me. Our eyes met, our souls touched. She screamed. I heard her. I felt her heart skip a beat. I saw the expression of horror on her face as her car hit the center divider of the freeway.
I heard a loud crashing sound, the sound of fast heavy metal ramming into a stone wall. I saw her head hit the windshield, breaking the glass, the blood splattering, brain matter falling out the gash in her head.
I heard her gargle and choking on her own blood, making horrific noises, her lungs trying to breath, as the blood flowed out her crushed face and head like a water fountain.
And she was there standing, watching all of this, beside me. She stood there watching her corpse, confused, looking at her hands, at the people who stopped their cars to try and help the body in the mangled car.
She looked at me in the midst of the commotion that late night on the freeway. She remembered me. She knew I ran in front of her car. She had a look of terror and confusion.
I walked backwards away from her, and I ran off the freeway finally. I ran fast in the dark, and I screamed for joy! I laughed and tears fell down my cheeks. I looked back, at her, walked backwards, and ran home fast. It had been so long since I had seen my family.
I remember when as a child my family and I were driving down that very same freeway to go to grandmother’s house. Usually, it takes us only 20 minutes if we father drove fast. But that day the cars did not move fast. They moved slowly, inch by inch. The sun was setting, and in front of me, I could see a long line of red lights, like a river of blood.
I had wondered what caused traffic jams. I saw the cause of this particular traffic jam because after a while, the lanes began to merge, and ahead of our car, just a bit away, was a bad car accident in front of the big cemetery. It was two cars, one was upside down, and the other had hit the divider. There were people standing on the freeway helping the hurt people out of the cars. As our car past the accident scene, I saw the body of a lady covered in blood, laying still on the freeway, her head and face all bloody.
My mother said, “The old people in our culture say that when you die from a bad accident like that, your spirit becomes a ghost and you are stuck in that spot until you kill someone else at that spot to take your place.”
It had been so long since I had seen my mother. She was looking forward to my graduation. I wanted to go home, to tell her that I was okay now.