The Broken One
Flashes of the silver car I’d been in a million times flew by in my mind, spliced in with another image—of the body I’d just seen at the bottom of the ravine. I kept seeing it over and over like a trailer for the latest horror movie. But it wasn’t some actress in a film. It was my best friend’s lifeless body at the bottom of that rocky cliff. The stark image taunted me: large, jagged boulders breaking out from a coating of pure white snow forever marked with her blood—her body, splayed across them, crooked and broken.