I never liked the sight of twisted metal,
but neither did I like the sight of a body lunged into my car windshield. It took me some time to overcome the shock of what just took place, my hands were sweaty, heart pumping. My hands froze in a grip motion on the steering wheel. Blood pouring onto the dash and all over the seats, good thing most of it was not mine. I looked at the old man. He looked at me. I could tell he was trying to whisper something to me, but could not understand him. His stare pierced my heart, I kept a straight face. There is something about the stare of death that anchors in the mind of the person responsible for presenting the gift of death. He shivered then stayed still, a piece of glass an inch long sticked out of his throat.
Work is in the morning and I couldn't afford to be late again. I realized my engine was still on and my transmission was in drive. I let my foot off the brake and started to accelerate.