Dead. She was dead. Nothing more, nothing less. Just simply dead. Her body, cold due to lack of blood. She was lying down on the road, bleeding. There was blood everywhere.

Why was she dead? Because of him. That person. The so-called transporter of school children. That government servant. The one who filled parents with relief for a few hours. The driver. Not just any driver, the school bus driver. The one who drives the big yellow bus down Cantebury Lane.

She, like any six years old, was preparing for school. Today was Show-and-Tell day. She wore that pretty, pink dress which made her look like a mini-Cinderella. Her long brown wavy hair swooshing as her million-dollar smile brightened up her day.

Him. The driver. He was just going through his normal morning ritual of butter on toast and black coffee, no milk. Today was his first day on the job. Today was the first day he would take the wheel and see many little children. He put on his blue overalls and looked out the window.

"Today is going to be a good day," he said to himself.

He climbed into the bus, took the driver's seat and drove to the first house. It was a cottage house with a red roof. A white picket fence surrounded the garden. The garden was filled with roses, lilies and unending rows of carrots. A little boy came out of the door. He wore a Nike shirt and dark jeans. His cap, with a picture of Buzz Lightyear, was on his head. He bid goodbye to his family and boarded the bus.

My sister saw the bus and grew very excited. She ran towards the road but stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. But suddenly, her little toy pony slipped out of her hand and fell onto the road and she walked over to pick it up.

The bus driver did not see her at all. He was still driving the large yellow vehicle. He heard a scream. We all heard a scream. I rushed out to see what had happened. I just saw my little sister in her pink dress lying down on the road. I saw the bus driver trying to back away and go to the next house. I saw the fear in his face. The pain it must have caused him.

A tear went down my eye. I ran towards the now lifeless body of the little princess. I looked down. I saw her pony. The only thing I had to remember her. My sister who was killed by the bus driver. The new bus driver.