I woke up the next morning, my head being split in two, wracked with the worst headache I've ever had I think. My stomach is churning, something bile sloshing around inside.
I couldn't even remember what happened the night before, but then the image of his body slamming into my windshield hits me like a hammer. I bolted out of bed, running into the bathroom and could barely even lift the toilet seat up before the entire contents of my stomach ended up in the bowl.
I tried to keep my breathing even, tried to will myself into calm, even though the inside of my body was like a pinball game, different ideas and feelings bouncing violently off of my organs so rapidly it felt like my insides would burst from the pressure. I heard my bedroom door open softly, followed by a knock on the bathroom door.
"John? Are you alright sweetie?" My mother naively whispered through the door, her voice at a volume not appropriate for the situation.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just a stomach bug or something." I replied curtly before I start gagging again.
"I'm going to run out to the store then and go grab you some Gatorade. Is your car behind mine?"
At the mention of my car, an absolute disaster on wheels, I jumped to my feet, pulling open the door.
"I - I don't think you should use my car," I blurt out, my mother's eyes widening at my probably disheveled, hungover appearance.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"I. . . I -"
"Did something happen to the car, John?" She asks, more sternly.
It takes a moment for my body to relax enough for me to whisper back, "Yes."
"What happened?"
"I hit a deer. Really bad."
It didn't even take a full moment for my mind to fill in all of the blanks of what I had to say to my mom. I never once considered really telling her what happened. That I drove drunk home from that party, and I slammed my car into a man walking out of a bar, probably walking home to his apartment. That I didn't fucking slow down. That I didn't even consider turning around.
"Oh my God! Why didn't you say something last night?" My mother says, grabbing my shoulders and doing a fake inspection to check if I had any visible injuries.
"Mom, Mom, stop, I'm fine. I was just really shaken up about the whole thing. Mom, it was the scariest thing that's ever happened in my entire life."
I collapse forward into her arms, and she barely catches the lumbering teenager that stands almost a foot taller than her that she helps to the ground, completely winded and barely able to breathe.
"Shh, shh, it's okay, John. You're okay. We're going to get the car taken care of, don't worry about it. Just try and get some rest. I'll run out and grab the Gatorade. I'll be back in a few minutes to check in on you. Please just get some sleep, sweetie. You are okay."
Mothers are the strangest creatures to ever walk Earth. You kill a deer, and they comfort you. You kill a man, and they shield you from the world.