The worst part wasn’t the car tumbling, it wasn’t the roof collapsing on my head; the worst part wasn’t even my uncontrollable screaming. The passing cars who ignored us was the worst part; when people saw what happened, they looked and stared, but they didn’t stop, they didn’t care.
I was trapped in the car with the door bent and smashed around me. My passenger rushed out and got me out somehow. I don’t remember much, but I remember him screaming for help outside while trying to pry my door open, my hand on the glass window trying to reach out to him, but I couldn’t. I was covered in glass, my eyes were full of tears and I could feel myself blacking in and out while yelling, “I’m sorry.” I was sorry to my parents for ruining their car, I was sorry to my friends for being sarcastic and mean to them that day, I was sorry to the person next to me for putting them through this.
The next thing I knew, I was being put on the ground and I was grabbing handfuls of grass, screaming. The thing is, still no one has stopped to help us, and we had to call our own ambulance. Being on your own, watching almost 70 cars pass you, is the most confusing thing I have ever experienced. If I ever saw an accident happen as bad as this one, I would stop. I would make sure that everyone was okay. I received text messages while sitting in the ambulance from people asking if I was okay and that they saw me. The car spun in a circle, hit the median, flipped twice, went airborne and stopped 234 feet away from where it was when I lost control.
How could someone see that, see a mangled car, two teenagers, blood all over the arm of one, and not stop? It seemed heartless.
— Meredith Lewis