Brenda Drake’s Can You Leave Us Breathless Contest

From Brenda Drake’s blog site:  It’s time to post to your blogs for the Can You Leave Us Breathless? blogfest contest. Yes, you can still join in, just sign up below. The linky will close sometime on Saturday when the first judge gets to the end of the list.  Read more here.

With that said, here is my morbid attempt at leaving the secret judges breathless.
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Emergency vehicles surrounded seventeen-year old Michael.  Through the Camero’s smashed windshield, he could make out a car wrapped around the front of his.  A body slumped over the steering wheel and a child’s legs jutted at an odd angle from the dashboard.

His driver door snapped open and hands reached in.  Michael turned his head and vomited the drugs and alcohol in his gut.  A stethoscope touched his chest and a cuff squeezed his arm and then there was nothing.

***

Michael opened his eyes to the recognizable chorus of hospital beeps and voices.  A weary but familiar face stared down at him.

“Dad,” Michael said.  It was the first time since the accident he’d seen either of his parents.  He glanced around.  “Where’s Mom?”

Silently, his father withdrew a vial from his doctor’s coat and filled a syringe, then leaned over and pressed the needle against Michael’s neck.

“What are you doing?”  Michael asked.  He struggled to move but restraints held his arms.  He tried to yell, but fabric filled his mouth.  A tear rolled down his cheek as his eyes pleaded with his father.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, son.”  Tears fell from his father’s eyes.  “But I can’t take it anymore.  You took away everything I loved.”

Michael mumbled something indiscernible.  The tip of the needle pierced his neck.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about do you?  Think.  The car you hit?  The people you killed?  They were my wife and son.  Your mother and brother.”

Liquid death ran hot through Michael’s veins.

His father stood, a gun held to his own head, tears streaming down his face.  “Goodbye, Son.”  A shot rang out.  A final tear dripped down Michael’s cheek.

And somewhere on the street, another teen tipped back a bottle and popped another pill.