◉ 013 | Aches That Run Forever

It happened on Savska.

Zagreb.

Late night.

Friday.

Maybe Saturday.

We were going out.

I was driving.

Marko next to me.

We were in my white Fiat—

a car I got for a good price.

A few weeks after buying it,

I gave it a polish.

And the word PO…LI…CI…JA appeared.

Faint but unmistakable.

At the lights, a long queue ahead.

Everyone braked hard.

Except the guy behind us.

Then—loud bang.

Smashed from behind.

Hard enough to launch us

into the car ahead.

I looked in the mirror.

All the fluids leaked out on the road.

The driver swapped places with the girl.

Probably drunk. Or high.

Not sure if somebody else saw it.

Lights and sirens.

Ambulance came first.

Then the police showed up.

Of course.

My car was fucked.

From the rear and the front.

Like a sandwich.

The paramedics put Shantz collars on us.

Cops asked the guy in the car ahead,

“Did you feel one or two hits?”

One meant I was pushed.

Two meant I hit him first.

But I knew.

I had already stopped

before the maniac

ploughed into us.

First time being driven in an ambulance.

ER.

Stiff necks. Sore backs.

But for us in early 20s,

it felt like a story.

We laughed.

Week later, call from a law firm.

“We’ll handle everything. No win, no fee.”

They sued the girl.

And she wasn’t even driving.

They told us to visit this specific doctor.

The waiting room was

full of people wearing neck collars.

We gave him a name: Dr. Stoja.

Stoja means 100 in Croatian slang.

He charged us 100 Kunas each

for a two-minute appointment.

One glance. One signature.

Diagnosis: whiplash.

Perfect.

Then came the physio.

Electrotherapy. Massage.

“Does it hurt here?”

We’d nod.

It did. Kind of.

We smirked when the nurse looked away.

Insurance paid out.

I sold the wrecked Fiat

and bought a new car

with that money.

Money that felt free.

And then,

I crashed again.

My fault this time.

Rear-ended someone.

Karma?

Maybe.

My neck aches

from time to time.

It’s not like it used to be.

And never will be.

There’s no such thing as free money.

Everything gets paid.

Now or later.

Your body keeps the score.