Brooke Dittmar is currently attending Full Sail University for Creative Writing. Brooke has written many short stories and novels. Brooke has self-published a few books on Amazon and is well known on Wattpad.
Drinking and Dying
“Lyric, you’re drunk,” I said. My boyfriend, Lyric and I came to a party. Lyric was the quarterback of the football team. We were in a field just a hundred yards away from the high school. It was supposed to be a bonfire to celebrate that we won the game. However, someone had brought alcohol, and Lyric was not the type to turn it away. “Relax, babe. Have a drink,” Lyric said. Lyric’s laugh echoed in my ears. “You promised me that you wouldn’t drink. You were supposed to take me home. Now how am I going to get home?” I asked. “I’m fine. I can still drive.” We began to gather a crowd due to our argument. We didn’t fight often. I turned to walk away from him, but Lyric caught my arm. His hand was so warm it made me shiver slightly. “Would you stop being such a killjoy,” he sneered. “You’re embarrassing me.” My pulse quickened. I arched my arm back and let my hand fly forward. The crowd fell silent. All that could be heard was my hand against Lyric’s cheek. Lyric’s head snapped to the side from the blow. He placed his hand on his cheek. His eyes pierced mine. Our friends let out a chorus of “Ooh’s.” “I’m leaving,” I said. I turned away from Lyric and his drunk idiotic friends. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I stormed past the bonfire. The bonfire smoke filtered heavily through the fall air and made my nose wrinkle as I walked past. It was late, and the street was dark. The dim streetlamps didn’t do much for light. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance. My brown hair slapped me in the face as the wind blew. A shiver rolled down my spine, and I hugged myself. The thin fabric of my cheerleader uniform did nothing to keep me warm. I should have grabbed my jacket from Lyric’s car. I made it about three blocks away from the high school where the unsupervised party had been before headlights flew around the corner. I spun around, and the car stopped beside me. It was my best friend, Miranda, Miranda’s boyfriend Liam, and Lyric. “Come on, Nikki!” Miranda called to me over the roar of Lyric’s black Dodge Challenger.“The boys are fine. Let’s go.” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I didn’t want to get into the car, but it was cold, and I lived a few miles outside of town. Lyric approached me as I debated it. Lyric walked as if he wasn’t at all drunk. Maybe he could drive – I thought to myself. Lyric’s face hovered over mine. His blond hair fell over his eyes. His blue eyes were apologetic. “Come on, baby. I’m fine.” Every word he spoke rung with promise. “I’m sorry.” “Fine,” I said. Lyric lowered his lips to mine and kissed me softly. There was a taste of cinnamon on his lips from the Fireball he consumed. He took my hand and pulled me toward the car. I got in beside Miranda in the backseat and buckled up. They all laughed at my concerned expression. None of them wore a seat belt. However, I knew what could happen if you drank and drove–I saw it first hand. A drunk semi driver killed my mother. I could never bring myself to drink for that reason. Lyric changed gears as we drove out of town. I would have offered to drive if I knew how to drive a manual. My father was gone to see his brother in Illinois, so I agreed that we could all crash at my place. As we neared a sharp corner, I gripped tightly onto the seat. “Slow down, Lyric,” I said. Lyric took the corner twice as fast as he should have. I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing accelerated. When nothing happened, I opened one eye to peek. Lyric turned around to look at me, and he smirked. “See, babe, I told you I was fine.” Lyric chuckled. I looked past him toward the road. There were other headlights in the distance. There was a turn in the road that Lyric was about to miss. “Lyric!” I screamed. Lyric spun back around, but it was too late. The car flew off the side of the steep hill. Lyric whipped the wheel, which caused the vehicle to start rolling. The glass shattered around us. Screaming from all four of us echoed through the car. My head hit something, but I wasn’t sure what. I kept my eyes shut. The screaming faded. When the car came to a stop, it was upside down. A sharp pain seared through my right leg and the side of my head. I wasn’t unconscious, but I was petrified of opening my eyes. I stayed still for several minutes before I heard voices and sirens in the distance. “Help,” I said in a hoarse voice. The voices grew closer. When I finally opened my eyes, I could see a flashlight. “Miss,” a deep voice said. I groaned in pain and turned my head to find a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes. “Can you move?” He asked. “No,” I said. “I think my leg is broke.” As I took in the scene of the car, I screamed in horror. Lyric and Liam were both gone. Miranda was somehow in the front seat. Her face was bloody and unrecognizable. Tears rolled down my face blurring my vision. A couple of more men appeared. “You’re okay,” the men chanted to me as they pulled me free from the car. The man with brown eyes, who was about the age of my father carried me up to the road. As they wheeled me away on a gurney, I saw the three black body bags that held what was left of Lyric, Liam, and Miranda. “Oh, god.” I closed my eyes and started to sob.