I'm sitting on the couch in my living room.

My mother had brought me and my boyfriend home.
No one knew what to say or do.
'People' seemed to know what had happened, and yet no one stopped by.
I think one of my brothers might have 'dropped in' to check out my face.

My head throbbed, the light hurt my eyes.
But I couldn't complain, because the driver stopped in at one point (brought me some Tylonel) and I knew he felt guilty already.
The drugs the hospital had pumped through my veins was starting to wear off by now
I tried to hide my pain, talking about it just 'caused an uncomfertable silence followed by suggestions to take more pain meds.

Eventually after I popped four Tylonel3's, and all the initial excitement was over, my mom left.

When my roomate came home, he remarked how I was in a 'much better mood' than he had expected me to be in, considering the situation.
For some reason... I felt so proud of my 'coping abilities'.
At this point I just wanted 'quiet'.
My eyes stung with bright lights, but closing them just transported me back into the Bronco.

...Bright blue/green/black and then red explosions just millimeters from my eyes.
The hard force impact surges through my face down to my back....
...rewind...restart...replay...repeat...