Hysteria - creative writing

The screeching brakes ringing in my ears. A wash of cold came over my body instantly. The once speeding care came to a sudden halt. My head was thrown forward into the dashboard, splitting my forehead. The airbags, for some reason, did not expand.

The crunch of the front of the car caving inwards, kept replaying its self in my ears. I opened my eyes, seeing non other than car pieces blood and teeth. I examined the driver. She seemed senseless, kind of limp. Then it struck me. Dead. Shaking her didn’t seem to make much of a difference.

Choking on blood, I shoved with all the strength I had left, against the door. It sort of skidded across the road, making an irritating scratching noise. My head throbbed harder.

The sun was reflecting off the shattered wind screens of about 7 cars. You could only make out three of them, as the other four were in a mangled heap fifty metres away. The tire marks on the road were coming from the opposite direction. A few swerved to the middle of the road, and some towards the cliff. The nearest heap of car was imbedded in the guard rail, and the number plate was crumpled a few feet away from me. I staggered over, and picked it up. I squinted, and held my hand up to block the strong rays of sun.
“Z-H-7-3-1-4”, I read aloud.
A light suddenly flickered on in my brain. My mother’s car. Yes, I remember. She was following us. That wash of cold came over me again.

Pulling as much of the rubber, metal and fabric away so that I could see inside the car. My breathing getting faster, I pulled away the broken seat, seeing my mother strewn, and at funny angles through the car. I now felt light headed, well more than before. Seeing my mother’s face wasn’t pretty. She had hardly any teeth, blood stained blouse, and open grey eyes. I could still feel her body heat, she had to be alive.
I lifted her out with great difficulty, laying her carefully on the road. She was limp. I felt sick with fear. The pit of my stomach ice-cold. Head throbbing. Spitting, and swallowing lage amounts of blood, I put my head close to her nose. I couldn’t hear her breath. I fumbled with her wrist, my hands shaking, trying to find her pulse. There was none. Putting my palm on the back of my other hand, and placing it on my mother’s heart, I attempted to start C.P.R.
“COME ON!”, I screamed.
“COME ON!”, pushing down harder, I felt one of her ribs break under the pressure.
I sank down on to my knees crying and screaming hysterically. She was gone.