The sound of screeching tires, blaring horns, and screams are all I remember.

Two months the doctors told me. Two months I'd been in a coma. I didn't even know my own name any longer. Nor did I know who the screams belonged to.

They told me I was driving drunk. Told me I'd killed my father.

I believed them. But at the same time... Something told me not to trust them.

So I left.