I’m Ashley, and this is the story of when my sister died in a car crash coming home from a church function on a Friday night.



Her boyfriend invited her to help serve the homeless and give them clothes, which I think is beautiful. I would’ve gone as well, but I had to cheer at a football game that night, and I absolutely had to go or else I would've been kicked off the team, due to the fact that I’d already used up my one and only game off for the season to go on a date.

It was the 3rd quarter of the game, so the squad had 15 minutes to roam around or eat or whatever. I was sitting in the bleachers with my mom and Hayley, my best friend, who was eating a piece of the cake that was being given out which was commemorating Coach Obamas 25 years with the school, and I was eating a plain hot dog, just to ensure that I didn’t make a mess on my uniform, when mother got a call. I thought nothing of it, until she quickly brought her free hand up to her mouth and her eyes started watering, quickly spilling over with hot tears, so heated that I could almost see steam coming off of her cold cheeks. A sob escaped from underneath her hand, quiet at first, then louder a second time. I could tell something either amazing or horrible had happened, but judging from the way she dropped her new phone to the bleachers, which almost fell to the ground before I grabbed it up and put in her purse, that something was horrible. “What?” I asked her, concerned.

She waited a moment, then quietly said, “Oh, God..” She snapped out of staring off into space to gather up her blanket and purse. “Oh, God..” she said again, in a sort of panic.

“What?!” I said louder this time and more in her face.

“Come on, we’re leaving. “ she said as she flung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed at my wrist, but I pulled away swiftly before she could.

“Tell me what happened!” I demanded, starting to get really worried.

She shouted this time, her face getting red, “NOW!”

We stood, staring at eachother for a moment before she slid past the other people in the bleachers, hurriedly, and down the metal steps. I looked at Hayley, she had a confused and worried look on her face, same as mine. I mouthed the word “What?”, and she just shrugged her shoulders in response. I looked down at Michael, the cheer coach. He saw the whole thing and was totally understanding. He closed his eyes and nodded his head slowly, as if to say, “It’s chill, man. Do what you have to do.”

With that, I turned and hurried after my mom.

By the time that we’d gotten to the scene of the commotion, my mother had told me everything that she knew, and I was in tears as well. She stopped right in the middle of the road, even though a police officer motioned for us to keep on going, so I got out too, leaving the door open as I ran around the car to where three paramedics were doing what looked like trying to resuscitate her. She was bruised and cut up and there was a small piece of glass in her forehead. I was panicking. I looked her up and down multiple times, because I didn’t see her the first time, I was moving too fast, I had too many emotions. I watched her chest. There was no rise. No fall. No anything. Her eyes weren’t flickering underneath her closed, bruised eyelids. Her bottom lip was busted and bloody and her nose was bent to the left a bit.

I started crying even harder. I couldn’t breath. I thought she was trying to take me with her. She was taking my breath so that she wouldn’t be all alone up in Heaven. But unfortunately, that didn’t happen. I was just panicking. I could hardly see through my wet, squinting eyes. But I could hear.

I heard a young man, maybe 25, say that there was no pulse, and that they were losing her. I heard my mother wailing like no other. I heard her screaming. I heard her shouting my sisters name to the sky. I heard her boyfriend, who had only gotten a broken arm out of the ordeal, explaining to someone a few yards away that the guy, who had apparently been drunk, decided to start actually driving like a drunk driver, the moment he got right in front of them. He swerved into their lane directly before he was going to pass them. And murdered my sister.

From what I put together, the man actually WANTED to cause them pain. He PURPOSEFULLY killed my sister. It wasn’t accidental. It was his INTENTION to do this to the two of them.

I stopped crying so hard, the moment I heard a police woman reading someone their rights. I dried my tears on my jacket, smearing my eye makeup, getting eyeliner, mascara, and silver glitter all over my face. I didn’t care. I wanted to see the man that just ruined my family. My life. My sisters life. My mothers life. Our Christmas pictures. Everything. It’s his fault.

He was handsome. Tall, slender, evil looking. He had short, black hair, a dark blue, button up shirt, black dress pants, and nice, black dress shoes. He had stubble, I noticed. He must’ve been out for a while. Maybe he had a fight with his fiance. Maybe he walked out on her. He probably did. He was probably drunk when he got in the fight with her. I’m glad for her. If she was going to marry the kind of person to do this, lucky thing she got out so soon. Before he might have done it with her in the car. But no one deserves this to happen to them. Except for him. He deserves this. He deserves to lose everything. But I have the feeling that he just lost everything. He lost any children he might have had. He lost his fiance. He lost his freedom. Good.

The policewoman was finishing up with reading him his rights when he looked up, still on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, he looked straight at me. He wasn’t looking around before he noticed me, he looked straight at me. Like he knew I would be there. He was staring at me with black eyes, a pale face, and then, a slowly spreading smile. His wicked grin exposed slightly yellowed teeth and pink gums. I hated it. I hated him. I knew in that moment that I would avenge my sister. I would ruin this guy, if ever he got out of prison. I wouldn’t let this stand.

I had a horrid headache, and my face was cold from the October winds chilling the still rolling tears on my face and neck and chest.

I held eye contact with the devil as he was tucked into the sheriff's car, and driven away. I just wish that there was better law enforcement here in Oklahoma City. I wish there would’ve been a checkpoint somewhere along the road before this happened. But, alas, this is the fate that was meant for everyone. My sister was MEANT to die, my mother was MEANT to suffer for the rest of her days with the image of her first born daughter laying, motionless on a blue gurnie, broken and bruised, while blue and red lights flashed all around her, tormenting her, reminding her of the reality of the situation.


I stood there, in the middle of the road, while cars slowly passed, with children with amazed looks on their faces due to the dazzling red and blue, and almost purple, lights flashing in their eyes. I saw parents looking back and forth from the road to the terrifying scene that looked like something out of an action movie. An old pickup truck with the front all smashed up, almost to the point where you could hardly tell that it was even actually a vehicle. Then, a few yards in front of it, a big Ford Explorer in almost the same shape.

It’s a horrifying scene. One that I wish I could forget. One that I wish had never happened. I wish that I could learn whatever lesson that I’m learning from this, some other way. But I guess It had to be like this. And I’ve sort of come to terms with it.


After a few months of mother making me ride around with Hayley to and from school, and wherever else Hayley thought would cheer me up, mom finally let me go get my own car. She was very reluctant, due to what happened to my sister, but I NEEDED my own means of travel. I had to get a job, and Hayley worked on the opposite side of Oklahoma City.
So, when I walked to the used car store, that just so happened to be about a quarter mile from my house, there was a “Help Wanted” sign up. I ended up forgetting about buying the car, and just got a job there. I could just walk to work everyday. But it’s actually a bit of a torment to work there. It’s only a receptionist job, but just sitting here, watching people buy deathtraps, sometimes with children, sometimes 80 years old. It’s just upsetting, thinking about any one of those people laying on a gurney, in the same place as my sister. It’s sad.

I’m Ashley, and this is the story of when my sister died in a car crash coming home from a church function on a Friday night.