“I need to call my parents,” I said, but they didn’t respond.

They asked if I’d been drinking, and I told them the truth, that I was sober. They asked where I was going past curfew, and this time I lied and said I was just going for a drive to get out of my house. I told them again that I needed to call my mom and dad, and they said I’d be able to do that once they got me to the hospital. I remember wishing I was seventeen instead of eighteen, so they would take my pleas for needing my parents more seriously. My eyes felt like they were burning, and they explained it was probably from the powder in the airbag.

“They build airbags for dudes that are five ten and sitting farther away from the steering wheel,” one EMT explained. “How tall are you?”

“Five feet,” I told them, but I think I’m more like four eleven and three-quarters.

“Yeah, you’re like child-sized. So, when that airbag explodes and you’re sitting that close to the wheel… bam! It’s like going six rounds with Mayweather.”

By the time I was checked into the hospital and was able to call my parents, it was almost midnight. A nurse offered to call home for me, but I told her I wasn’t about to let my parents get a phone call about their daughter from a stranger in the middle of the night. If they heard my voice on the other end immediately, at least they’d know I was alive. My mom already sounded frantic when she answered the phone, and then she was disoriented to hear me speaking. She thought I was fast asleep in my bedroom.

“I’m okay,” I said, “but I’m in the hospital.”

I don’t think I ever quite realized how much my parents love me until they walked into the ER and saw me in a hospital gown, with my face bruised, bloodied, and swollen. My mom had to sit down to keep from fainting. My dad, somewhat predictably, started to cry. Later, they told me they were overcome with relief that their daughter was alive and the terrifying reality of how close they might have come to losing me. It was too soon for them to reprimand me or interrogate me about where I was going, so all they said was how glad they were that I was okay.

“Let’s go home,” I begged, after a doctor confirmed that all my injuries were external. “If we stay here any longer, we could all get Adema.”