And I remember the first thing I felt.
Not grief. Not yet. Grief came later.
The first thing I felt was rage.
At the boy.
I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t know anything about him. But I hated him. I hated him so much I couldn’t breathe. Because Lisa and Tom were dead and he was alive. Because they’d stopped for him. Because if they’d just kept driving, just kept going, just been like everybody else on that highway who drove right past, they’d be alive. They’d be home. They’d be tucking Ellie into bed.
They died for a stranger.
And the stranger lived.
The newspapers called. The TV stations called. A reporter from Kansas City came to my door. They wanted pictures. They wanted names. They wanted to call Lisa and Tom heroes.
I didn’t want them to be heroes. I wanted them to be alive.
