Designated Driver

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
After a party, a group of friends get into a car under the influence. Tragedy strikes. A true story.

(I use my own name just for the sake of a name to use. Not all of these true stories have happened to me personally.)

Submitted: December 11, 2007

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Submitted: December 11, 2007

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"Ohmygod!" we laughed as we staggered to the car.

"It’s snowing!" I slurred. Everyone on the front stairs thought that was hilarious, doubling over in laughter. I giggled. My friend Carey and I grabbed each other, trying our best to stay on two feet, supporting each other.

"Hey y’all, I’m driving!" announced Matt. He raised his keys in the air and jingled them. You could barely hear them over the music coming from inside the house. Cars were strewn across the grass. Some guys were pushing a car into the corn stalks, pulling a practical joke and laughing as if they’ve never seen anything funnier in their lives. One of them slipped in the mud—falling face first into it. The other guys laughed even harder.

"I think I just peed a little!" yelled one guy. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Still smiling, there was a sudden feeling of foreboding that made my face twitch. I looked back at Matt, still arm n arm with Carey.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should call someone…" I trailed off. Carey looked at me like I was crazy. I had always called someone before, usually another friend.

"It’s okay, Bekah. Matt always drives me home. We’re fine," she reassured me, patting my arm sensitively. I faltered a smile back at her.

"Yea," cackled Matt, "I’m like the…whatsitcalled…Designated Driver," he took extra care to pronounce the last word.

"But you drank tonight…" my brain was going fuzzy. Matt got an angry, annoyed look on his face. He opened the driver door and stood there with his hands on the top of the car.

"Godamnit Bekah, I’m trying to be nice. I’m a good driver, whether you think so or not!" he yelled. Carey looked down at me, raising her eyebrows, pleading with me.

I just stood there, trying to piece it together in my mind, which was no longer working right. Carey tugged at my arm.

"Bekah, it’s okay. I promise," she said. I shrugged, forfeiting all reasonable thoughts. I walked over to the car and hopped into the backseat. Carey and Matt hopped into the front.

"Besides," Matt giggled, "What’s two or ten drinks going to do?"

He and Carey giggled ferociously. I joined in, but only half-heartedly. He started up the car and wove through the other cars like it was nothing. My heart began to settle down a bit.

Maybe he did know what he was doing…

Finally we reached the road, which was still damp from the rain earlier. I rolled open my window, allowing my hair to billow in the wind. The cool air felt fresh on my face. I closed my eyes and breathed it in.

Soon we had reached the small highway, still in the country surrounded by corn on both sides, and it was deserted. It felt odd, yet cool to be out at night when no one else was. Like we were a part of some special club or something.

Carey had her arms and face out of the window. She looked so angelic I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

"Hey Matt, go faster! I want to fly!" she yelled into him. He turned and looked at me for a second, smiling excitedly. His pupils were extremely dilated.  He floored the gas and we flew so fast down that road. My hair was pushed straight behind my head; I could barely open my eyes without having them tear up.

"Whooo!" Matt screamed, throwing his hands up in the air, letting the car steer itself.

My stomach practically flipped out of my body when I saw that. I didn’t like how he’d let go of the wheel.

"Matt!" I yelled over the wind. I leaned forward as much as I could against the force, seeing the needle on the speedometer going slowly passed 120mph.

"Matt, slow down!" I screamed. Carey pushed herself back into the car. She turned to look at m—her hair severely windblown. I looked frantically at her. Matt was ignoring me.

"Make him stopped!" I cried. Tears poured down my cheeks, falling into my lap. Carey looked at me with an apologetic smile. She reached over and patted Matt’s arm. His whole body jerked, coming out of his daze and only just realizing we were in the car with him.

He began to slow the car down. I rolled up my window, allowing me to hear them better.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. I looked at him in the rearview mirror, meeting his eyes.

"Please don’t do that anymore," I sniffed. I felt like a five-year old, but I didn’t care. My heart began to pound again as relief flooded through my body. He giggled. I looked up ahead, seeing the intersection where the highway becomes a road. The speedometer still read 80mph.

"Hey, Matt…" I began, trying to tell him to slow down some more. The intersection was always busy.

"Bekah, I slowed down, just chill!" he shouted. He turned the radio on; blasting on heavy metal music that hurt my ears insanely. I looked over at Carey, who was slumped over in her seat. My breath froze in me.

"Matt…Carey…" I said, pointing at her. He looked over at her and frowned slightly.

"It’s okay, she’s just passed out," he stated. The intersection got even closer. We were still going 80 mph. I began to panic.

"But Matt!" I yelled, "There’s an—"

"Wow Bekah! Just shut the fuck up! I already slowed down!" he yelled, annoyed with me. I don’t think he sees the intersection.

Only 300 feet separated us from it. I grabbed his shoulder.

"Matt!" I managed to choke out. He slapped my hand hard, turning around to stare at me while he talked.

"Bitch! Don’t be a backseat driver!" he snarled, glaring into my eyes.

Only 200 feet now.

My mind began to shut down now. I looked at the speedometer one last time—still 80 mph and only 100 feet.

"MATT!" I screamed bloody murder. The light for us had turned red, but we kept going. Bright lights erupted all around us. I turned to look out the window, seeing nothing but the grill of a semi-truck and headlights. Time seemed to freeze. My stomach dropped and my heart stopped.

I’m going to die…

I looked back at Matt, who was staring at me with such an expression, I hope I never see it again. It was full of agony, remorse, and hopelessness. His lips were moving.

"I’m sorry…" was all I heard above the music before the blare of a horn and the crunch of the car.


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