Over You: Miranda Lambert

Twenty year old Dorothy Ann lay in her bed, weeping. The last eight weeks had been an absolute nightmare, and she wished she could just wake up and everything would be back to normal. Just one week into summer vacation, she and her eighteen year old sister, Evana, better known as Evan, was involved in a car wreck with a drunk driver. Dorothy Ann was driving them to lunch when they suddenly came head on with the driver. She tried to swerve, but they were hit. Dorothy Ann's head smacked the steering wheel, and Evan flew through the windshield. Dorothy Ann and the drunk driver survived; Dorothy Ann had minor concussion, and broken arm, but Evan's injuries were too severe, and she died two days later. The days between her death and burial were a blur and Dorothy Ann was like a zombie afterwards. The fun-loving, happy-go-lucky girl fell into a deep depression and barely ate or left her room. Her friends often stopped by to offer their support, but she refused to see anyone except for Keesha, who was the one who came upon the accident scene and went with D.A. to the hospital.

Dorothy Ann pulled Evan's photo from under her pillow. The picture was taken about two months before the accident. Evan was taking her senior photos with a family friend, who was a photographer, and specialized in senior photos. D.A.'s favorite had been a beautiful headshot that showed off her sister's beautiful baby blue eyes, freckles, and perfectly straight white teeth, thanks to three years of wearing braces. Evan was ecstatic to attend Central West State with her older sister, where she wanted to major in veterinary science. Now, all her hopes, dreams and aspirations were gone, thanks to some dummy who thought driving after drinking after five beers was okay.

"You were my baby sister and my best friend!" Dorothy Ann sobbed. "I was always supposed to look out for you. Oh, Evan, I'm so sorry!"

"D.A.?" said a voice from her doorway. Dorothy Ann sniffled and looked at her visitor.

"Hey, Keesh." She mumbled.

"Hey, there. How are you feeling?"

Dorothy Ann sniffled. "I'm okay."

"Do you want to go for a little car ride?" Keesha asked softly.

As Dorothy Ann was about to say no, her mom, Susan, poked her head in the room and said,

"Please, go on out honey. You've been holed up inside for a month. I know you're grieving sweetie, but you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. It's not your fault. Okay? Evan would want you happy again."

Dorothy Ann just sighed. Even though her parents and friends told her a million times the accident wasn't her fault, she still had pangs of guilt. Her parents wanted her to see a psychiatrist, but D.A. refused that, and Susan was afraid her daughter would soon have a nervous breakdown.


Keesha drove around Walkerville, playing her 90s mix CD. Dorothy Ann kept quiet throughout. Often times, Keesha would glance over at her friend, who just stared out the window. Keesha then decided to drive to the park. She figured a little fresh air and sunshine would do her friend good. When they got to the park, the two girls sat under a sycamore tree. After a few more moments of silence, Keesha spoke,

"How you're feeling?"

"Like crap, Keesha." Dorothy Ann retorted simply.

"No. Tell me how you're really feeling." Keesha continued.

Dorothy Ann looked into Keesha's honey brown eyes. "Okay." She began indignantly. "I'm mad. I'm pissed off, actually. At the driver who killed my sister. At myself for not swerving in time…I'm even mad at Evan for dying…"

Keesha's eyes welled with tears. "That's good, keep going; only I want you to shout,"

"I'm…PISSED OFF!" Dorothy Ann yelled. She felt all her feelings coming to surface. "Evan! How could you leave me like that?! How dare you?!" and with that, she broke down into heavy tears. She fell into Keesha's arms and just sobbed her heart out. Something she really hadn't done since the accident. She realized she was bottling everything up, and she was finally able to release her feelings. After a few minutes, she managed to calm down.

"I miss you, Ev. I miss you so much!" D.A. whispered.

A/N: It's VERY hard to write a story of this caliber in four minutes.