The Traces of Destiny
My memory: Accident

I remember that I screamed even before I stopped my vespak.

I remember the impact, the vibration on the wheels and the sickening thud. But what I remember most is my own scream from above the vespa.

His voice was deafening, echoing in that twilight air, and continued on until I dropped my vehicle and was finally able to open my eyes. My screams then turned into panicked prayers. "No no no . ." That's all I remember saying.

Barely able to breathe, I ran to the middle of the road in a panic. And I ran back to my Vespaku. I don't see any significant damage, just scratches.

Suddenly I had the feeling that I had run him over, that I would find his body crushed by my vest, and when the terrible sight passed before my eyes, I felt my abdominal muscles constricting.

Now, I'm telling you that I'm not the type to get confused easily, people often comment on my self-control - but I admit that at the time I put my hands on my knees and almost threw up. When the feeling finally subsided, I forced myself to look down at my sprawled body. I didn't see anything. I don't see a corpse.

I ran from side to side, looking for him. I didn't see it right away, and I felt strange.I was probably wrong, and it must have been just my imagination.

I started running around a little, checking one side of the road and then the other, hoping hopelessly that somehow I had just grazed him, that maybe he just fainted. I looked back and still didn't find him, and I finally knew where he should be.

As my stomach started to churn again, my eyes scanned the area in front of my vespaku. The headlights are still on. I took a few hesitant steps forward, and that was when I saw him inside the trench, about twenty meters away.

I argued with myself whether I should run to a nearby house and call an ambulance or if I should meet him first. At that moment, the latter seemed to be the right thing to do, and as I approached, I moved more slowly, as if slowing down would make the result less certain.

His body, I noticed immediately, was lying at an unnatural angle. One leg appears to be flexed, like crossing the thigh, the knee is twisted at an impossible angle and the foot is facing the wrong direction. One arm was pinched under his body, the other above his head. He's recumbent.

Eyes open.

I didn't realize that he had died, at least at the first moment. But it did not take more than a few seconds to realize that something was wrong with his eyes. It doesn't seem real, almost like the eyes of a mannequin in a department storefront. When I looked at her, I thought it was their silence that really explained everything. As long as I stood on it, he did not blink at all.

I saw blood pooling under his head, and after that everything immediately attacked my vision.His eyes, his body position, his blood. . .

And for the first time, I knew for sure that he was dead.

I thought I fainted at the time. I don't remember making the conscious decision to get close to him, but that's where I found myself moments later. I put my ear to his chest, I put my ear to his mouth, I checked his pulse. I checked for any movement, any blink of life, anything that prompted me to take further action.

but... There's nothing.

In the next story, an autopsy shows and the newspaper will report that he died instantly. I'm saying this so you know that I'm telling you the truth. Maudy Zefanya has no chance at all, no matter what I might do to help her.

I don't know how long I've been by his side, but it can't be long. I remember walking staggered back to my vespaku and opening the trunk. I picked up the dagger that used to be stored there with the screwdriver and the little pliers. I walked over the side of the road, got into the plantation and cut off some banana leaf stalks. I covered his body with those leaves. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Sutrisno or Garin suspected that I was trying to apologize, and if I remembered it, I thought it was part of my regret.

but the other part is I don't want anyone to see it like me. So I covered it up, as if covering up my own sins.

My memory after that ran away. The next thing I remember is that I've been driving back on my vespaku, heading home.

I really can't explain it, other than that I'm not thinking straight. Had the same happened now, had I known the things I was doing now, I wouldn't have done it.

I'll run to the nearest house and call the police. For some reason, that night, I didn't.

However, I don't think that I'm trying to hide what I've done. No. gabe.

Looking back and trying to understand it now, I think I started driving home because that's where I need to be. Like a moth interested in porch lights, it seems I have no choice. I just react to a situation.

I didn't do the right thing when I got home. All I could remember was that I had never felt more tired in my life, and instead of calling, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Next thing I know, it's morning.

That's what I experienced once my eyes opened. It was as if I was unable to breathe, as if all the air had been forced out from within me, yet as soon as I took a breath, the air again flowed profusely.

Drive.

Impact.

Maudy's look when I found her.

I put my hand to my face, not wanting to believe it. I remember my heart starting to beat fast in my chest, and I prayed earnestly that it was just a dream.

I've had such a dream before, a dream that seemed so real that it took me a moment of serious reflection before I realized my mistake.

This time, reality never goes away. In fact, it got worse, and I felt myself drowning in it, as if drowning in my own private ocean.

Moments later, I was reading an article in the newspaper that morning.

And that's when my real crime happened.

I saw the pictures, I read what happened. I also saw a quote from the police, they swore to find whoever did this, no matter how long it took. I read the bold headline over and over again, Maudy Zefanya, Wife of Camat Gajakarta Died.

And along with that came the terrible realization that what had happened, this terrible accident, was not considered an accident.

Somehow, it was considered a crime.

Hit and run, the article said.

A crime.

I saw the phone lying on the table, as if beckoning to me.

He said that I had run away.

In their minds, I was guilty, no matter what.

I repeat again that despite what I had done the night before, what happened at that time was not a crime, no matter what the article was about.

I didn't make the conscious decision to run away that night. I don't think it's clear enough for that.

No, my crime hasn't happened the night before.

My crime happened in my house, when I saw the phone and I didn't call.

Although the article confused me, I was thinking clearly. I don't make excuses for it, because it doesn't exist. I considered my fears with what I knew to be true, and in the end my fears won.

I was afraid to go to jail because what I knew in my heart was an accident, and I started making excuses.

I thought I told myself that I'd call later, I didn't.

I told myself that I would wait a few days until everything was in order, then call, and I still didn't.

I decided to wait until after the funeral.

And by then, I knew it was too late.