Inspired fiction/comic (50 pts)

We were coming back from a nice trip to the beach. It was a beautiful day; a beautiful couples date. Nothing could go wrong; or at least that’s what we thought. Then it happened; the metallic screech that would haunt my life for the next several months. I was eighteen years old, and new in a relationship with a lead-footed, car racing guy who promised to show me how to live. He’d introduced me to several things growing up in a strict Christian home had. He even got me thinking that maybe speeding wasn’t so bad after all. We had a friend couple whom were also crazy obsessed with the need for speed. Everywhere we went was achieved in about half the time because of how fast we traveled. You would think that was what caused the accident that day. You’d be wrong, though. The guy in the friend couple decided he wanted to drive, and in the process of leaving his girl’s parent’s neighborhood backed in a jeep behind him going about thirty-plus miles per hour. The following hour was a bizarre mixture of vivid and a total blur.

It began with us frantically vacating the premises as fast as we could and taking the back way entirely back to the couple’s house. I insisted that they come clean to the family and the cops, but was put down left and right for wanting to do the right thing. I understand that we were all very scared, but it was rather unnecessary. Next, after hiding the crunchy-ended mustang drove back. Why? Because they thought it would be good to pick up any detached car pieces. And guess who got the “honor” of doing this deed? Yours truly! After spending five minutes picking up car parts, and getting a nice gash in the process, I had retrieved all of the mustang parts, and accidentally picked up a small part of the jeep. After diving into the car, I spent several moments trying to regain all sorts of composure.

Upon returning, the boyfriend spent the next several hours pacing and plotting a story to tell his father, who was still in the process of paying off the mustang. I would periodically remind him of the fact that he would have to tell the truth, because another car was involved.

“We should just steal the jeep then!” he said. I knew he was panicking, but it was still the stupidest thing he had said. Well, at least up to that point.

“Yes, because it’s not bad enough we hit and ran from it, but let’s add theft to that pile, dumbass,” I responded, rather perturbed.

This resulted in one of the biggest fights of my life. A fight of truth versus dishonesty, one that would stay in my life for several months. I was young; I wanted to be loved, and therefore played along with his deceit. A year later, when everything surfaced about the “true” story, it become apparent that the dishonesty lived on. I was blamed for the dishonesty portion of the issue. When I found out, all I could think was, “I should have just let him steal the jeep… through me under the bus!”.