Sorry I haven't posted in so long. I'm always super busy or tired. But anyway, I had a creative writing assignment for English about 3 months ago and we have the option to continue it for extra credit, so I just now realized it could possibly be a decent fanfic. I'm definitely not Kiara, Dani, or Koyoa, but I tried. Tell me what you think...
In a split second everything went black. It
stayed like that for a long time. I don’t know how long though. I was stuck
between life and death. Hanging on the edge of consciousness, fighting with all
I had just to stay alive. I tried to breathe and it worked. What was that sound?
It’s like beeping interpolated with blurry voices. Where am I? I finally found
the strength to open my eyes.
“She’s coming to!”
All
of my muscles are sore and wires are attached to nearly every visible surface
of my skin. A hospital. I look to my left and see a doctor and a nurse solemnly
discussing something. I clear my throat to get their attention. They turn
around with pity written all over their faces. I frown.
“What happened to me?” I question.
“Well,” the doctor starts, “2 weeks
ago you were in a near fatal car accident and you slipped into a coma. You
sustained a minor brain contusion and several lacerations, but luckily, nothing
too serious.” I exhale. I’m fine…but wait, he’s not finished.
“Unfortunately, you lost your baby
boy.” I gasp and instinctively clutch my now-barren abdomen. I hadn’t even
known. How could I have been so careless? An unfamiliar substance stings the
rims of my eyes. Tears. After my dad died, I promised to never cry again, but
this, I wasn’t prepared for. Everything in my life was so perfectly calculated
so nothing like this would happen. It’s all my fault, I let him down.
I
wake up in a cold sweat. That was 2 years ago and to this very day, I still
have nightmares about it. I don’t know why that was the hardest part for me.
Everything before it was so much worst, but something about losing him, but
never knowing he was there really messed with me.
Sometimes
I wonder if things could have gone differently. Maybe if my dad was still
alive, I wouldn’t have had to grow up so fast. My mom was devastated, she
couldn’t even function. The roles eventually reversed and I ended up taking
care of her. She depended on me for everything.
One
day I grew tired of all her silly demands, moping, and incompetence. We were
arguing about responsibilities-this and grief-that and family should be there
for each other. I just walked out. I couldn’t take it anymore. She called for
me over and over and over. She pleaded from the doorstep for me to come back. I
should’ve listened.
I
knew nothing good could come out of walking around Queens alone at night, but I
didn’t care. I wandered aimlessly through empty streets and dark alleyways with
no specific destination in mind. I stopped at a convenience store on the corner
of Utopia and Union to use the bathroom, but I didn’t notice the look the
cashier was giving me until it was too late. After I came out, I was going to
leave, but the door was locked. When I turned around he punched me in the jaw
and I slid to the floor. He dragged me behind the counter and ripped my sweats
off. It was all downhill from there.
I
woke up in the same spot on the floor and he was gone. The pain was almost unbearable.
There was dried up blood on my thighs. I didn’t cry though. I made a promise to
myself and I didn’t intend to break it. I picked the ripped sweats up from the
floor, tied them around my waist, and made my way home.
Everyone
noticed something about me was different, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell
anyone what happened. I tried my hardest to forget it, but things like that
don’t just disappear.
It
made me stronger and more guarded. I didn’t feel emotions anymore. What else
could possibly be worst? Never ask that question because then life will do all
it can to prove you wrong.
