• The party music blared in my ears, the heavy beat resounding in my chest like an extra heartbeat. I was on top of the world, invincible, intoxicated on life, breathing in the heavy fumes of youth and ignorance. The atmosphere was bright and lively, and it saturated my very soul until it felt as if I was lifted from all cares and concerns.
    Feeling a bit lightheaded, I sidestepped over the empty beer bottles and affectionate couples, making my way outside. I was greeted with a burst of crisp air, which I drank greedily. My head was swimming, but I paid it no heed. This was my night, and nothing could spoil it now. At that moment, I felt with absolute certaintanty that I would live forever, that nothing could ever destroy me. How terribly naïve I was...
    "Hey, get over here, man!" a voice called out, and I peered out toward the row of vehicles, illuminated by street lamps. The night's cold bit deep, and I could see the mist rising from my breath as I called back, "Where the hell are you?"
    "Over here." I immediately recognized the voice, swinging toward its owner. He was standing over a brand new car, the chrome shining like a halo under the lights. He guestered toward me, and I made a great deal of swaggering over, unsure if he posed me any threat. A cigarette hung from his lip, and he took a drag on it and blew, the smoke rising like a deadly vapor over the street.
    "Dude, what do you want?" I asked. Sudden recognition dawned on me; he attended my high school, but his face was not very familiar to me. I was suddenly aware of my own fatigue, and wanted nothing more than to get back home.
    "Do you need a ride?" he asked, grinning. He looked jumpy and eager to leave, probably anxious to show off his car. There was another guy in the backseat, I noticed.
    "Are you sober?" The question flew off my lips automatically.
    "Of course I'm f*****g sober. Do you want a ride or not?" There was something there, something in his voice I could not place. Suddenly, I realized what it was. This man was under the influence of drugs. Stealing a side glance, I saw a bag of white powder in the backseat of the car. Most people would refuse the ride right there, but did I? No. I was too assured of my own indestructability, too sure that the rumors that death hung around every corner was a load of-
    "Are you going to stand there all night, or get in?" he laughed as he sat in the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. He shoved the keys in the ignition, and the engine came to life. I walked around the car, to the passenger seat, and sat down, glad for a lift home rather than a long walk.
    I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned with anger in my eyes. My face softened when I saw that it was my best friend gripping my shoulder. "Get out of the car. Get out of the car, now." I was about to argue, but there was something in his eyes, something I still remember to this day. He practically dragged me out of that car, his hand pulling at my arm roughly.
    "Whatever, man," the driver said, pulling away from the curb with a screech. I watched him go, longing to be in the passenger seat, and when the car was finally out of sight, I turned to my friend. "What the hell did you do that for?" I asked angrily. His face was grave, and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was interrupted by the earsplitting sound of metal scraping against metal.
    "What the hell was that?" I screamed, and my own voice rang in my ears. Blood rushed to my head as I fell into a panic. People were shouting, pointing, and running in the direction of the commotion. My friend and I exchanged brief looks, and ran.
    The scene was from my worst nightmare. There was twisted metal, smoke rising from the broken fender into the night air. And there was blood, so much blood that I still gag when I think of it to this day. The two men were dead. The driver was impaled, halfway through the windshield, his eyes bulging and his face contorted in shock. The backseat passenger was still in his seat, which had lifted completely from the car and been tossed into the woods like so much trash. He was dead, blood congealing on the gaping wounds on his body. Instantly, I knew that I would not be alive if I had still been in that car when the fatal collision had occured. I turned away and emptied my stomach on the road, retching, my friend patting my shoulder in comfort.