10/29/2025
Thrown off the bus into the frigid air after a painful back injury from a sudden brake, the bus driver's decision soon brought consequences he didn't expect.
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At 73, I've faced nearly every cruelty possible—or so I believed before that freezing morning last winter.
I'd been to the doctor and was heading home through biting cold. My back ached from arthritis, but I made do. I caught my regular bus. Driving today was someone I hadn't seen before—Calvin, broad and gruff,maybe in his late 30s, with a weary face.
The road was ice-slick when a dog appeared out of nowhere. Calvin slammed the brakes, sending me flying across the aisle. My back hit a metal pole with a sickening crack. I couldn't see from the pain.
"My back—oh God—" I cried out.
Calvin looked back, his voice sharp: "WHAT WERE YOU DOING?! YOU WEREN'T HOLDING THE RAIL!"
"I think I broke something! Call an ambulance!" I managed.
He froze, glancing at a camera above the dash. "NO WAY! NOT GETTING ANOTHER REPORT. NOT AFTER LAST TIME."
"Please…" I croaked.
He muttered angrily, then seized my arm, hauling me to the door. I screamed from the pain. "YOU OLD PEOPLE THINK YOU CAN SUE ANYONE FOR A DIME! I'M NOT LOSING MY JOB OVER YOU!"
"STOP! You're hurting me!"
His hands shook as he forced me outside. "GET OUT BEFORE SOMEONE SEES YOU!"
He shoved me into the frosty street. No passengers intervened.
I hit the ground, ice cold, and lost consciousness. When I awoke, the bus had vanished.
A teenager, walking his dog nearby, found me and called for help. I spent weeks recovering from vertebrae fractures, cracked ribs, and hypothermia. Doctors called my recovery fortunate.
Three weeks later, a knock echoed at my door.
It was Calvin, the bus driver.
As I tried to close the door, his foot held it open.⬇️⬇️⬇️
