A/N: This is a story, based on a prompt where I could only use 100 words. I am supposed to tell how I would feel after an accident that almost cost me my life. I've expanded it a bit, but it's still short. Comment what you like and what you think should be changed. Now, without further ado, here is ~Aftermath~.

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My head is throbbing as I open my eyes. Still, I manage to sit up. My hospital sheets are soft and cool. I don't remember how I got here, which might be the painkillers I feel coursing through my veins. Everything is hazy.

Then it all at once comes flooding back, clearing away the haziness like a flash of lightening on a dark night. I remember everything - laughing, driving from the bar. I remember the crash, the fire, Lila's voice muffled mid-sentence. Lila...

I choke back a scream and call for a nurse. "Were there any other survivors?" A pitying look tells me the answer.

The haziness sweeps over me once again. I hardly hear the nurse's reply over the blood rushing in my ears. I feel like someone is squeezing my chest; I can't breathe. "Please, I need to see her. Please!" My voice breaks as realization settles in. She's gone because of me. I fight lightheadedness as I try to swing my legs over the side of the bed.

Once again that pitying look. From somewhere a voice says, "I'm sorry, there's nothing left to see. The fire..."

The unfinished sentence hangs like a sword over my head.

The numbness begins to crack, tears filling my eyes. This is my fault. I should be dead. Lila...

"I need to see her!" I say more forcefully, standing unsteadily. Tunnel vision has set in.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but that just isn't possible."

"I need to say good-bye!" I'm screaming now, tears running down my face. I don't know when I started crying.

"Ma'am, I need you to lay down." The nurse moves toward me and I strike out at her, missing widely.

"Let me see her! Let me see my daughter!"

Other nurses and doctors are rushing in, holding my arms and legs and dragging me to my bed. I try to kick them aside feebly. I'm not strong enough to resist them. A hand clamps a mask over my face, forcing me to inhale the sickly-sweet steam. My eyelids betray me, drooping against my will. As the noises around me grow fainter, I see my daughter standing before me, her sweet smile gracing my presence one more time.

"Quite a way to spend a 21st birthday, isn't it, Mama?"

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." I say through the mask.

"It's okay, Mama. I'll see you on the other side."

And with that, she fades away, and I fall asleep.