Wrong Message

You read the last text for the seventh time with a sigh. You said it finally. You were finished being hurt. You didn't want that relationship anymore. You'd hoped a reply would come quickly, but it doesn't, so you threw your phone down and turned on TV. An infomercial was on and the remote was somewhere between Timbuktu and Atlantis. You sighed and watched a blonde lady demonstrate how non-stick the copper pan is and talk about the chemical make up of it. Somewhere in between, you fall asleep, oblivious to your phone ringing.

Dead is the first word you notice on the text. Your ex's mother has been texting you non-stop trying to get you to go see them before everything was said and done. But, by the time you awoke, your ex's last breath had been taken. The white bag was already sealed by the time you pull your jacket on and grab your keys. Driving, you could barely control your emotions. Everything that had hurt you felt so trivial compared to death. The death of someone you still had feelings for. Yes, the bad feelings were probably overshadowed by the guilt that loomed over you. You were the last text they'd seen. This was your fault.

At the hospital, the mother said they were trying to get to you when their car was stuck by another. It caused a pile-up and eight people had actually died. Your ex had been texting you, well trying to, while driving. You peered at your phone and gasped. Ten messages, the latter half misspelled and jumbled, were blinking on your phone. Baby, I miss you. I love you. I'll be better. I'll do anything to be with you. I was so stupid. please aswer. I ned yu. I catn lvie wiouy uo. you al iw gpt. You closed your eyes, tears rushing into them.  The words of a ghost will forever haunt you. 

"It wasn't your fault," your ex's mother said, pulling you into her arms. You could tell she didn't even believe her own words.