The moment Caitlin Courtney made the left-hand turn from the two-lane, country road, onto her driveway, all of the morning's anxiety began to melt away. Thoughts of her friend Sally, who had died the previous week from a heart condition, thoughts of school without Sally, thoughts of graduating in May without Sally by her side, dissapated. Home, home. A few more minutes, and she would be home.
She drove on in auto-pilot. Her silver Infiniti QX4 hugged every every twist, bend, and curve, seeming almost instinctive. Courtney had learned to drive on the driveway that wound its way through the rolling fields. She could shut her brain off. Keep it from thinking about Sally.
The bare trees and brown grass, characteristic of a Kentucky January, whisked by as she sped, at 40 mphs, toward home. Yes, she was probably going a little fast, but it was her driveway. It wasn't dangerous.
Courtney turned the wheel to ease the car around the driveway's final bend, and it happened. The capable SUV had hit a patch of black ice. The car careened, this way and that, all traction gone.
Except for her sinking stomach, Courtney was as frozen in her seat as the patch of ice was on the road. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had already turned off her brain. She couldn't think of what to do.
So, she acted. Instinct made her slam her foot down on the break. She hoped it was the right thing to do.
Wrong. Her instinct sent the car spinning across the driveway, still going 40 mphs.
Crash. The car finally stopped when it hit a tree. Metal crunched and glass splintered. Courtney's father and farm workers came running. Courtney sat in her seat, unable to move from the shock.
When she was finally climbed out of the car, her body was convulsing, but her stare was blank. She had no energy, no drive. She was just so tired. But, at least she was home now.