Michael and Kent were on their third beer and their second game of cards. The fire was crackling to the left as they talked.

"So how are the kids, Kent?"

"Fine, I guess. Eric's got some band thing coming up, I just had to blow two hundred bucks on a new valve for his trumpet. Then Alyssa's got ballet every single day and just...argh!" He grunted with frustration and ran his hands through his hair.

"Ya, I know what you mean. Sarah has been bothering me about going to Daniella's school play. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her I have to work. I am telling you, this is the only time I can hear myself think."

"What can you do, 'Happy wife happy life,' that's what I always say. Anyway, I am afraid we should be heading back; otherwise we will have to pay for overnight parking." The two men got up and started packing up the beer coolers, and in a few minutes they were ready to go. Kent slapped Michael on the shoulder, got in his car and left. Michael popped the cap on one last beer and finished it looking up at the stars, sitting on the trunk of his car.

He hopped down and walked around and got in the driver seat. He started the engine with a yawn; he glanced at the clock as he pulled out of his space: 11:24 P.M. He drove with one hand as he found a suitably loud song to keep him awake. He drove out the campground gate and started down the long windy road back to his neighborhood. He wanted to get home quickly so he didn't bother with the brakes much. He hit 80 mph as he passed the gas station. He made a sharp turn and felt his eye lids grow heavy. He snapped awake to the sound of a scream far in the distance behind him, he caught sight of a girl with ginger hair in the mirror. He thought about stopping but he was half a mile away by now and it was probably just some kids playing around in one of the cabins by the road.

He got home without incident after that. However, when he got home Sarah was waiting for him in their bedroom.

"It's almost one o'clock in the morning. Michael, I understand Tuesdays are your nights to hang out with your friends but at least be back in time to do the dishes." Michael turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To do the dishes."

"Oh get back here! It's too late now. You will have to do them in the morning." He rolled his eyes and climbed into bed with his wife.
***

Michael went speeding down the hill, he hit 80mph as he passed the gas station, he made a sharp turn and felt his eye lids grow heavy. He drank the last drop of his beer and turned up his music. He leaned into another turn, the headlights flashed onto the silhouette of a little girl, the passenger side tire thumped and blood sprayed across the windshield only to be quickly wiped away by the windshield wipers he had never turned on. There was a scream and he shot awake.

He threw on a shirt and ran downstairs. He flung the door to the garage open and flicked on the light. There was the car, a shimmering black mustang with a mangled passenger side bumper and dried blood splattered across the hood. His heart thumped in his chest, sweat poured down his brow and he fell back against the door. Slowly sliding down it until he was sitting on the floor staring, unable to move his eyes from the sight before him.

The rag dripped water down his arm as he ran it over the blood, pushing it against the hood of the car. After three hours his knuckles were raw and the blood was still there. He heard the pitter pattering of feet from the floor above. His kids must be waking up for school. Michael hurriedly locked the garage door and went in his house to start breakfast. He was half way through the batch of pancakes when his daughter, Daniella, and his two sons, Kevin and Jon, came racing down the stairs. Daniella won out but got tripped up on the last step and fell on the foyer floor. She was suddenly covered in blood face down on an asphalt road, the spatula fell from Michael's hands and as it clattered onto the floor he was jolted from his stupor. He rushed to aid his daughter's bruised knee. After much consoling and pancake-eating, they were finally ready to go. He headed for the front door.

"Dad aren't we gonna take your car?" Jon asked.

"No, not today. Daddy needs to take it into the shop," responded Michael promptly.

So they all went outside and filed into his wife's minivan. About five minutes into the drive, Kevin piped up from the back of the car.

"Dad, this isn't the way to school." He was right, Kevin was turning onto the road that lead up the mountain to where he had been last night, without even noticing. Michael shook himself and concentrated on his driving after that and they made it to school without incident. As Daniella got out of the car she turned back and said,

"Bye Dad. And don't forget, I have my play right after school today." Then she turned and skipped off to fifth grade. Michael cringed at the idea of going to a play in his current state, as he pulled out of the school parking lot. Plus, he still had his work project for the Sloan Company. He grunted and kept driving; he had work to do.

He was only a few blocks from home, when a cat shot out in front of the car. He hit the breaks but he wasn't quick enough. He got out of the car to see if the cat was still alive, and before him lay the prone body of a little girl on her side. He jolted back and tripped on the curb. From the ground he could see the face was Daniella's. He closed his eyes got up and got back in his car, determined to ignore it, ignore everything.

Michael worked as a graphic artist for companies looking for creative advertisements. His current client was the The Sloan Cosmetics Company. He drew quickly hoping to finish and be able to deal with the car before he had to go to Daniella's play. These and a hundred other thoughts were racing through his head. He looked down at his drawing. He had drawn in large capitals: 'SLOAN COMPANY IS SO GOOD THEY CAN EVEN FIX THIS.' And beneath it was a picture of a bloody little girl. He crumpled the paper and stood. It was rather cruelly humorous, in a way, but it drove him over the edge. He went into the garage and spent another four hours on the car until every drop of blood was gone. Looking at the time he rushed back into his wife's car and made a b-line for his kids' school. He was thirty minutes early, but he rushed into the auditorium as if he was late. There were a few scattered people milling in, but he ignored them found a seat furthest from the front and fell in it. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel it rising up until it was pulsing through his ears like a drum. Thud! His wife was next to him asking why he was in the back. Thud! She was leading him to some seats near the front. Thud! She mentioned how a girl from Daniella's class had died in a car accident. Thud! Thud! Thud! He stood,

"I am sorry Sarah I just... I just have to go." He ran out of the auditorium but before he had gotten to his car Kent had caught up with him.

"Hey man what's up? It hasn't even started yet...are you ok?"

"I just... I think I hit someone last night... a little girl, and... look I can't take this any more I am just gonna go down to the police station and tell them everything that happened."

"You THINK you hit someone, but you are not sure.. Here let me drive you up the hill and we can see if we can tell what happened ourselves, then decide what to do. Kent wasn't really giving Michael a choice and he pushed him in the passenger seat and walked around to the other side.

The twenty-minute drive up the hill was spent in dead silence. Eventually, Michael said,
"Here, pull over." Kent did so and they both got out and looked at the road. There was a set of black skid marks that swerved across the road, and ended at a, "See! What did I tell you." But Michael didn't hear him. He just stared at the limp body of a girl on the road. She had long red hair, done up in ponytails with the brightest of yellow shoes all of which was splattered in blood.

"Excuse me misters."
Michael turned around a saw a little girl, her crimson hair fell onto a blue dress with very yellow shoes. Michael fell to his knees and began to cry.

"Are you ok Mister?... I just wanted to ask you if you knew who hit my sister."

"What... wait what do you mean? Hit your sister! I... I... I didn't it wasn't me!"

"Did you kill her mister?" She turned and looked back at a tree next to her house. Under the low branches of an oak tree was a freshly dug grave with a cross at the head. Michael staggered towards it, Kent was saying something but he couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart. Thud! Thud! Thud!

There was a sign at the bottom, 'ROSE THE GREATEST FRIEND A GIRL COULD HAVE, SHE TRULY WAS MAN'S BEST FRIEND.'