“You’ll never have her. You couldn’t have her in life and she’s not yours in death. She was promised to me. She’s mine.”
Surely they’re not talking about me! I strained my eyes trying to see through the darkness. It was thick and dense, a black fog.
“You killed her!” The voice was harsh, evil.
“No, you did, you killed her when you messed with my brakes. You ended her life.” This voice was full of sadness and love.”
“You should have died alone. You took what was mine.” The evil voice boomed through the darkness. It scared me.
“Mala wasn’t a possession. She didn’t love you.” It was almost a whisper.
The darkness was penetrated by the sound of a horn. It was loud. Rushing towards me.
A single beam of light pierced the darkness from another direction.
A truck roared towards the crossroads. Oh God, slow down, won’t someone slow down. Screeching brakes and burning rubber filled the air.
The truck tried to stop.
The motorcycle swerved.
For a fleeting moment I saw the face of the beautiful gypsy girl riding behind the smoking man. She closed her eyes, and hugged him tight.
Her lips moved, “I love you.” I wondered if he heard.
The impact was deadly.
Then there was silence.
“Why am I here?”
The sound of my voice hung in the darkness.