My Story

18 February 2015

Out of everything I could see out of the smashed windshield that is my vision- the only thing that really stuck out was that you were still walking away from us.
The accident wasn't the worst part, getting smashed between two sheets of metal hurts a hell of a lot, but so does losing the pair of arms that ever could hold you in the way where you felt safe for once.
You were still walking away from us.
When I was four I was pushed down a flight of stairs and when I stood up I was fourteen. Nobody warned me that things with beating hearts could harm you just as much, if not more than inanimate objects that were sharp on one side.
I could hear the ambulance coming and the only thing I could think about was the fact that you were still walking away from the destruction you were at fault for. Everything around me you were at fault for but you were able to get up and walk away, because unlike us- you won't be held responsible.
I think I died that day and went back in time to when I was four to tell myself that it was okay to be scared, I am still so scared. I think I told myself that strangers and broken glass are not play structures to adventure on and that sometimes family feels like a battle ground and I would feel like a grenade with the pin pulled five seconds from going off, but I would be okay. That hands are nice to hold, but when they're coming for your neck to run the other way and never look back.
When I woke up in the hospital I was told you had died, and I'm not sure if I cried because I was happy or because I was distressed but I know that you can't walk away anymore, and I sure as hell wish that I could walk away from the memory of you.