Every curve of the road I waited for the blinding lights. I waited for the loss of control, and the inevitable impact of metal on metal. I waited for someone to try to revive me and fail, their hearts heavy as they gave up. I waited for them to call my parents, and waited for my mom to scream and cry and curse God. I waited for my dad to get home and see her lying on the linoleum, knowing without speaking that it had finally happened.

But after every curve there was a straight, empty road that I made it to every time. There was always another one, though, and I kept looking ahead with bated breath, hoping that this next bend in the road was the one. This is the one that'll kill me.

It never was, but I keep waiting.