My neck was killing me. The muscles spasmed, twitched, and seized sending a shooting pain down the right side of my body; consequences of spending a night with my head awkwardly propped up by a window. There was a percussion section of a college marching band stationed just inside my skull- pounding away. I ached all over. It was as if someone had tied my body to the back of a F150 and dragged it across a parking lot covered in speed bumps at a pace sufficient enough to ensure I struck each one solidly. Squinting, I opened my eyes. The sunlight scorched my retinas with the intensity of a Californian wildfire mixed with teargas. Okay, where am I? The dashboard was filthy and unfamiliar. The horse logo in the middle of the steering wheel confirmed what I suspected; I was in an unfamiliar car. None of my friends drive Mustangs. Whose car is this?
I sat there in the driver’s seat dumbfounded for a second. I hadn’t the slightest clue about how I got there and, to put it plainly, I could’ve been anywhere. The ignition was bare. I found solace in the thought that I hadn’t stolen a car and/or driven drunk. At least I didn’t drive. The last thing I remembered was talking to my friend Danielle by the stage before staggering off to the bathroom. Everything is black after that. How much did I drink? I know had a good bit…but damn!
Leaning over, I opened the center console trying to find something that would tell me whose car I was in. For some reason, I wasn’t afraid. There had to be a logical explanation for this. I just had to figure it out. I sifted through various papers and trash, but I found nothing. That’s when I looked down and saw that I had my phone. It had some mud on the screen, but other than that, it was still on, and I had about thirty percent left on the battery. I also had seventeen missed calls, twenty-two text messages, and six voicemails all to the effect of “Where the hell are you?” So, I dialed Rob back.
The phone rang one time, and a tap on the window made my heart cease inside my chest. I looked to my left—blue jeans. I scanned upward—dingy white T-shirt and a Caucasian right arm. I thought to myself, Ohhhhh…I bet this is his car. I could hear him reciting my every move, so instead of looking up at him from my seated position in the car, I decided to get out. He held a cell phone to his left ear as he backpedaled from the door, giving us some space. He looked worried. Damn. "Is this your car?" I asked. Police sirens wailed in the distance.
**This is an excerpt from my new book "I Prayed and Everything"**
If you want to hear the rest of my story follow/subscribe/like my Author Page @iprayedandeverything on FB, visit my website www.estrellyoungiii.com, and pre-order your copy of my new book "I Prayed and Everything"- available now on Amazon.com
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