I don't remember much about that night. Dark images and painful flashes of the accident are all I have. I remember driving home after working late on a moonless Friday night. A white SUV came up fast from behind me, blinding me with their headlights . The other driver crossed the white line and swerved toward the right lane pulling the wheel too hard, causing the SUV to overturn and roll. I remember the sound of the car's brakes squealing, the smell of the tires locking up on the asphalt, then the sound of metal folding in upon itself followed by shattering glass, as I slammed into the other vehicle. When I opened my eyes again, I opened them to blinding white light, shouting voices, and pain. Pale masculine hands drew my attention as they deftly removed one syringe in a blurring speed and replaced it with one filled with a blood red almost black liquid. Confused, I lifted my eyes to the face above the hands and looked into icy blue prisms that flashed momentarily from the comforting blue ice that was dulling my pain, to pale moon-like orbs that glinted in the florescent lighting, like a momentary spark of palest platinum and abruptly my body caught fire. It was then he turned those eyes on me. As our gazes locked, the fire he had started with the syringe blazed burning white hot deep into the center of my being, within my frenzied heart.
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