She was nervous, shivering in her chair. She always got this way before presentations. It was the 10th, no the 11th time she was going to do this. She knew the words, she knew the story, it was her own, but more than that, she knew the audience. She understood how they were, how they thought, how they came to be. She used to be one of them, but she was older now, grown. She knew of things none of them could ever imagine. The woman knew of pain they thought couldn’t exist. The principal introduced her and the clapping followed the introduction, it always did. The woman rose from her chair, silently walking to her place on the stage. All the eyes were on her. The woman was 40; she was pretty, but the air of unspoken pain surrounded her. One look in the woman’s eyes and one would see the pain she carried. The woman paused, a moment’s hesitation. She knew this was good; this was needed. The woman was taking her agony and trying to teach the kids, but would they understand? Could they know their actions can change their lives and someone else’s? She took a breath and then the woman began to speak. Her voice was strong, another mask to cover her pain.


The popular boy hated assemblies. They infringed on his reign as king of the pack. The popular boy was tall, handsome and proud. Confidence radiated from the smug look on his face. The assembly was pointless. He didn’t care about the woman. She was a stranger brought in to try and curb their fun. The popular boy looked down and tried to push the woman’s words out from his ears. He couldn’t succeed. It was the woman’s daughter. She had been a sophomore, a year ago. The popular boy tried not to notice the suffering the woman’s voice conveyed as she described her daughter: bright, happy, beautiful. The boy looked around. He couldn’t talk; everyone was too focused. He listened to the tale of the daughter. Was it real? Did it matter? This doesn’t happen to ordinary people, right?

The quiet girl examined the woman. She was having trouble speaking now. The girl could tell. It was all so terrible. The girl didn’t want to listen anymore. How did this happen? A young girl’s life destroyed by an arrogant, selfish person willing to put anyone at risk for the sake of their own fun. The quiet girl knew it was real. The woman’s voice dripped with a grief that could not be faked. The girl couldn’t fathom how it could have happened. She spent her weekends reading or gazing at the stars. The life of the drunken teenager was never offered to her and it had never appealed to her anyway. The quiet girl looked around. She saw so many kids who spent their Fridays being reckless. Before today she had never been sure if she had been missing out on something. Today she knew she hadn’t. The girl couldn’t imagine how many other stories were like this woman’s. How many other lives have been ended because of utter carelessness?



The woman paused again. She refused to show her pain to the audience. She had to be strong. The woman remembered it all perfectly, the night her daughter never came home. She missed her daughter, her smile, and her wavy blond hair running through the house. Everything was empty now. She told them all about that night and about not ever knowing. She knew her daughter had been crossing the street and that she never made it. The woman tried to explain what it was like to get that phone call, the one commanding you to drive to the hospital and then to see your child lifeless, to never know who was behind the wheel of the car that changed everything. The woman kept her voice steady. It was so hard. She always prepared her speeches. She practiced constantly, but somewhere in the middle she always got lost as memories swam into her mind and she was forced to relive it all. She looked out into the sea of faces. Were they listening?


The popular boy sank deeper in his chair. It could’ve been him, but didn’t everyone know he drove great when he was drunk? But maybe this mystery person had thought the same thing. Maybe they didn’t even know they had run her over, but maybe they did and they kept going anyway. Would that be him? The popular boy thought over all of those times he had been careless. What if something had happened? How would he be able to keep going, pretending nothing had happened, living his life after ending someone else’s? The boy listened closer now. It happened to the woman’s daughter. Could it happen to him? Did his constant partying really put others at risk, people he didn’t even know?


The quiet girl shifted in her seat. She couldn’t stand the sadness that was flung out with the woman’s words. What if she became a mother someday? What if she became that woman, childless? The girl had never driven drunk, and she had never given a thought to what could happen if she did. At times, the girl had even wished she could be apart of those crazy parties and wild happenings. The quiet girl then made a vow: she would never be so careless as to put anyone at risk. The girl made it as a promise to herself. She would not be able to live if she caused someone the heartache that the unknown driver caused this woman to feel everyday.


The woman stepped down from the stage. She heard the steady clapping, quieter than before. Her heartbeat began to slow and her breathing was a little easier. She wondered what they were thinking. The woman looked out. The faces were different, not as lighthearted as before. She hoped they had listened. The woman wanted them to understand. Nothing brings back a person, especially a child. Losing a child is like losing the sunshine. It blackens the world and can never be replaced.