Echo

Humans are creatures that feed off of each other's success. It's the only way they can really feel something beyond all the cold layers of meat that surround their greedy hearts. Taking forcibly is the only giving that really contributes to any happiness they may attain throughout their lifetime. Why this broken, cruel system exists, no one knows. The only evident fact is that it exists, and that it is inexplicably controlling our lives. The philosophy of winning is that one can triumph only when another fails. Other people are the footstools to our success, and running in the race is only a contest to see who that footstool is in the end.

*

Crystals began to form on the corners of all the windows in the house, and the ebony hardwood floors turned into blocks of ice. The whole building had transformed into a refrigerator in the course of a few days that December. The most inconvenient part, however, was that the power was out for the entire city. People can go crazy without TVs or phones to keep them company.

“Yeah, it’s been out all day,” Sara says on the phone, as she closes the trunk of her black Toyota. She stares at the rusted paint on the side for a moment, before turning back and taking a seat inside the car.

“I’ll try to be back by this weekend, or sooner if I can.”, she says to the person at the other end of the line, “It’s better than having to stay here, at least.”

The car starts up and the garage door opens up to reveal the winter wonderland outside. Snow covers every surface visible to the naked eye, and all trace of color is hidden.

“Yeah, okay. See you soon.” With that, she hangs up and begins taking out the car, completely oblivious of what was to come her way.

*

I look out of the car to see houses covered in snow from bottom to top, all of them empty and quiet. It’s a strange sight - peaceful, yet ominous. Before turning to the highway, I turn up the music and smile as I pass by all the lightless buildings on the way. ‘Better enjoy myself while I can before getting there', I think.

Traffic is light, and I’m not thankful for it. It seems like the ride to my parents’ place gets shorter and shorter each year. It’s not that they’re horrible people – it’s just that they were horrible parents. I don’t blame them for it, not everyone is cut out for raising children. I only wish that they had realized sooner.

By the time I’m out of the city, the sky is a vivid shade of violet, and the clouds are covering up that last few rays of sunlight. It’s when I’ve just come onto the bridge that connects to the small island-city that my parents live on that I look into the rearview mirror and notice a car speeding up behind me.

It’s a blue Mercedes, the kind that I’ve always admired in movies, with its luminescent navy paint heightened by the falling shards of gold from the street lights. I stare at it longer than I normally would other cars, not because of its model, but because it’s rapidly speeding up right behind me. I feel uneasy, because I’m pretty sure it’s going way above the speed limit. I speed up too, reaching the limit in a matter of seconds, just to be safe. I'm not very confident in my driving abilities. With my hands sweating and my eyes nervously darting around, I finally let go of the accelerator to gain some control. In that moment, time slows down, and all hell breaks loose.

The first thing I felt was a sudden jerk, knocking me forward and causing me to painfully bump my forehead against the glass. A bubble of crimson spatters across it, and my vision becomes foggy. I was surprised that the windscreen didn’t break from the collision. The whole car then begins to turn, skidding across the icy road, making my head spin even more. Horrible squeaking noises crowd my thoughts, and all I could do to try to not fall off the bridge was slam the breaks as hard as I could. But even that seemed futile. As the car crashed into the barriers at the very edge of the road, I was sure it was the end for me. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pair of familiar hazel eyes staring back at me for what I thought would be the last time. My world then slowly started to disappear.

*

The first thing she saw after everything went black was wisps of white light floating around her. They carried her through the dark tunnel, until finally they reached the end, and she was gently placed beneath the star filled sky.

*

When I was questioned later on, I told them I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. I managed to recall the events from the previous night, still stunned that I had managed to survive with only limited consequence.

I had been discharged from the hospital a few hours prior, with a mild concussion and a broken arm. My face was showered with bruises, and it was hard to imagine that I would ever recover from them from the scars, mentally or physically. Confusion clouded my judgement, and I was content at first - relieved at the fact that I was alright. Surprised, but overjoyed. My jubilee lasted only for a few short hours.

*

She stared at the piece of paper she held in her hands, dazed. She could never in a million years imagine that this could possibly happen. He had filed a lawsuit against her. Against her. The man in the Mercedes was blaming her for what had happened.

At first, she was startled, her thoughts muddled. “This has to be some sort of misunderstanding”, she thought. Then rage took over. Just because she had ended up in the hospital doesn’t mean she had suffered traumatic brain damage. She still remembered what had happened, who the real perpetrator in the case was. There was no possible way that she could be held accountable for what had occurred. The legal system disappointed her.

*

My lawyer told me that they were looking into it, but it wasn’t looking too good for me. The detective was supposed to question me later that afternoon. When I arrived at the station, I was led into a small room at the side of the building, separated from the commotion outside.

“Take a seat,” the detective told me, as he sat down on the chair on the other side of the mahogany desk.

“This will be brief” he continued, “Let’s get the basics out of the way. Is your name Sara Williams?”

He asked the usual questions – who I was, where I lived, where I was going when the accident happened. I told him the whole story in detail.

“Are you aware that there were traces of alcohol found in your system?”

“No”, I answered, taken aback.

“Do you remember consuming any alcohol before leaving that afternoon?” the detective continued to ask.

“Not that day, no. But I did have some wine the night before, a little after midnight. I didn’t think that would be a problem, though.”

“Well, your blood tested positive and had 0.04% alcohol content. Its in the safe zone, but Mr. Hendrick still wants to press charges on the basis of that.” the investigator informed me.

I was a little more than surprised. “I’m sorry, but are you saying that someone else was informed about this before me?”

“It appears that Mr. Hendrick – ahhh – pulled some strings to get this information early.”

“Surely that can’t be allowed.” I remarked.

“In most cases, yes. But Mr. Hendrick is… special.”

I sit there in silence, astounded. It felt as though I was in some sort of twisted dream.

“But, that argument can’t be used, right? Because the number is too low? After all, he was to blame for the whole thing, as I’ve told you before.”

“The problem is, we don’t have any evidence to back up that claim.”, the investigator argued.

“You don’t have any evidence to back up his claim either,” I pointed out.

“While that may be true, he reasons that your word can’t be trusted entirely, owing to the fact that you were not entirely sober.”, he said matter-of-factly.

I’m completely baffled at this. There is no way that the court could approve such an accusation. If anything, he was the one to blame for this entire mess.

*

The next day, in court, she got to hear what ‘Mr. Hendrick’ had to say. He was a short, pudgy fellow, with greying threads for hair, dressed from top to bottom in a sharp black suit. He began by extensively describing his trip, and how it was an extreme inconvenience that it had to be delayed because of ‘ignorance’. He claimed that he had been following the speed limit and had only hit her because she had suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. Sara had to restrain herself from shouting out and exposing his lies.

When it was finally her turn to speak, she recalled the events from that night and recited what had actually happened. She tried to remember every detail to make her story as strong as possible. The disbelieving faces of the jury twisted her heart.

What was expected to be the last session of court was scheduled for the next day. Things were not looking good. She had no idea why people were less willing to believe her. Was it because her car was older, or because he seemed more reliable with this Mercedes and designer suits? Her lawyer told her that it was better if she agreed with Mr. Hendrick’s story, so that the penalty would be lower. ‘No one is going to believe your story’. She felt as though everyone had abandoned her.

*

I stayed up late that night, trying to think of what I had done to deserve this. The humiliation, the pain, the anger. It seemed to me that the universe had its favorites.

*

By the next morning, she was completely hopeless. She would do anything to escape this mess, even if it meant giving in to lies. Life wasn’t fair, and she knew that. She just wished that it would show some empathy for once.

As she walked toward the courthouse, completely devoid of emotion, she was informed that there was a new witness to the case. They had just come forward the night before and volunteered to give a testimony.

Initially, she thought it was someone Mr. Henrick had hired to further strengthen his case, because there was no limit to what you could accomplish if you have the money for it. So, it came as a shock to her when they backed up everything she said had happened.

*

The case led on to find Mr. Henrick guilty of going over the speed limit, causing an accident, as well as lying on stand. All because a passerby cared. All because some trace of virtue and justice remained in the world. Victory had never tasted so sweet.