"Run over" is, unfortunately, one of the most incorrect phrases utilized by the average American. A more appropriate term would be "Run under" as this is more or less what actually occurs. When a car impacts a human the result depends upon the speed of the vehicle, though is primarily the same.
The car's bumper slams into the pedestrian's legs, breaking them, usually in more than one location. The victim is then launched into the air as a result of this before impacting the windshield or the hood of the car violently. If said victim is particularly unlucky they will continue this cycle once more and slam into the windshield in a second location, the roof of the car, or, as in this unfortunate case, both.
The driver was a mere sixteen years of age, and higher than the average airplane at the time of the accident. The victim was twenty-three. The vehicle was later determined to be moving at approximately seventy-two kilometers per hour at the time of impact. The unfortunate suffered just as every other victim in the past had. Both his thigh and leg bones snapped as though they were dry spaghetti. The autopsy showed a clear imprint of the letter "G" on the left knee of the cadaver, with a matching "G" on the bumper corresponding to the impact point.
The victim continued on in the manner of almost every other victim and impacted the car once more at the point where the windshield met with the hood, denting the car and leaving spider-web cracks along the length of the glass, and shattering his left shoulder into too many shards for doctors to count.
The third and final impact came with the head. It smashed through the windshield and caught upon the edge of the glass it had recently penetrated. The sharp pieces pierced his neck at the jugular and continued though as inertia moved him farther back. The glass passed fully through, leaving the victim dead and the driver covered in blood and blinking.
"Jackass," the man muttered to himself at the nerve of the bastard to get in front of his car while he was on the highway. It felt good. "Jackass!" This time he yelled it. This was fun. "Jackass! Jackass! Jackass!" It was starting to develop it's own little tune! This was fantastic! "Jackass! Jackass! Jackass, jackass, jaaaaaaaackaaaaaaaass!" He giggled. What a clever and funny little song he had come up with. He should make a record of it! He could be rich! And MTV would love the story of his inspiration when he told them how he'd come up with the name! A car accident… This was the best thing that ever happened to him!
He giggled some more about how wonderful this was. "Hey… Hey… Hey! I'm talking to you!" He poked the lifeless body staring at him with empty eyes through his windshield. "WAKE UP, DAMN YOU!" He gave the cadaver a firm poke in the face. "WAKE UP!" he punched it full out, snapping the cartilage along the nose.
"Wakey, wakey… Eggs and backy!" He laughed again. He was rhyming, now! Spectacular! He could be a rapist. No, wait, they were called rappers. Wait, which was it, rapist or rapper?
It didn't matter. He was rich. No, wait he was going to be.
Such thoughts continued to permeate his mind as he pressed down on the gas pedal once more, his increased speed driving the shard of glass deeper and deeper into the corpse's throat until the glass broke off, spraying a number of smaller shards into the driver's face and sending the corpse flying in a spray of bloody and bits of trachea and esophagus.
With a small gasp of pain the driver took his hands off of the wheel and his foot off of the pedal once more to look at his bleeding features. Looking at himself in the rearview mirror he saw that there were a number of fairly small shards of glass embedded deeply into his shoulders and neck primarily, though relatively few in his actual face.
Grumbling he looked back at the road and spotted a bit of skin impaled upon a bit of the windshield and flapping at him in the slight breeze.
"Jackass, you forgetted… forget… forgot! You forgot something!" Stomping down on the accelerator a third time he went to work prying the skin off of the glass. Unfortunately the result of not having his hand on the wheel was the he slammed, once again at seventy-two kilometers per hour into an office building. The solid durasteel gave way considerably less than the corpse had.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the passing of a young, poor life. He was a troubled child, one who gave into pressure and, as a result, died. But he died happy, and that is all we can really hope for of him.
"We can only truly ask, in this, the final moment before the lowering of the coffin that we remember him. At just sixteen he was killed because he caved into pressure, and because he could not stand up for himself in a world where it was no longer necessary to do so. I suggest that we all take a moment and learn from the lesson of Peter Travail, lest we forget that we are just as mortal as he."
On the opposite side of the cemetery a similar though undeniably different memorial was being held.
"He did not cave into pressure. He did not allow the world to simply flow around him. This man was a fighter, and would have been right up until the bitter end had it not been for a freak accident which occurred. He lies here now in ashes because there was hardly enough of him left for a decent burial, but rest assured, we remember him.
"This man fought for freedom, for peace, and for a world where people like himself would be obsolete, and all but omitted from memory. The result of his hard work was his death at the hands of one of the people he saved. At twenty-three he lived both far longer than he had any right to and far shorter than he had the right to.
"We must learn, though, to forgive, and to let heal the wounds. I suggest we all remember, regardless of what we have done with our lives, regardless of how good or how evil or how troubled we are we are the same. We are mortal.
"This man saved the lives of every citizen on Earth and their freedoms not once but twice, and yet it was a car crash which killed him. Lest we forget this sacrifice. Lest we ever forget.
"We can only ask that you rest in peace, Heero Yui."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\eh, screw it. Too lazy to continue.
A/N: My first One shot fic. If you liked this, please review. For the love of the Earth review. I like reviewers. They are cool. They're like children, only you can't eat them.
Wait, let me rephrase that: No, actually, don't let me rephrase it. Let me delete it and rewrite it. Nope, won't work. Damn you, laziness.
Anyway, the sentimental value of the fic was meant to indicate how, regardless of who and what we are, we all die the same way. We can choose to accept this and make the world better for its other occupants, or we can choose to simply waste away in simple pleasures and destroy that which we live in.
I kind of wish I could put "In loving memory of someone" but it really wouldn't work for me. So stick to sentimental value. And reviewing. Both are good.