Masked

Entry Ten

Hey, future me. Sitting there, on that floor, I remember slipping into sleep, the medication claiming my body. I remember recounting the whole thing as I lied there, dying.

'Hooked on a Feeling', by Blue Suede, was playing in the car, my little brother Michael singing along with my dad. We were having fun, and the stress had even melted away as I turned onto the highway. The music was interrupted by a blaring honk, the kind you liked to hear when sitting on the playground as a truck drove by during recess. It was only a split second before a truck came barrelling into our right side at 140km/h.

The music was silenced, a loud crash resonating in my ears. My airbag had detonated, keeping me safe. The glass on the windows shattered all at once like a massive shockwave in slow motion, like a movie scene. I shielded my face with my right arm, but the pebbled glass pelted me consistently for several seconds, cutting my neck. There were squealing tires, scraping metal, and a boy was screaming in pain. I thought it was Michael and tried stretching from my cramped position in the car to try and comfort him, but I was mistaken. Michael wasn't capable of screaming anymore.

You can never really prepare yourself for that moment. You can't prepare yourself for the day when you have to say goodbye. You never know when it's coming, and you can only make the most of everything while it's still around, just living in the moment. I can promise you this, though, you will never be ready for the day you have to say goodbye. All you can do is hope you don't have to say goodbye the way I did, staring at their mangled bodies, bleeding and broken, at your hands, at your fault.

Screaming was echoing in my ears as I reached for Michael, his head hanging limply over his chest. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was the one screaming. Michael sucked the air out of my lungs, and the screaming ceased. Sure, we didn't get along all the time, but I never wanted him to end up the way he was. I never wanted him to suffer, to be in pain, to die.

Panicked, I whipped around as fast as I could without injuring myself more, looking for my parents. Tears rolled down my cheeks at the sight. Neither chest was rising or falling, their bodies lying still aside from the gentle rocking of the slowly halting car. At that moment, while the sirens came softly into my comprehension, I realized what I'd done. They were completely bashed and broken, bones pointing in awkward directions and bruises littering their bodies. I couldn't look at their faces, I just wanted to break down and cry. I couldn't sit there any longer, I had to get out.

I was filled with adrenaline, yelling for my parents and brother to wake up while banging on the driver's side door. I wanted them to tell me something, ANYTHING. I wanted to apologize for everything, or just tell them I loved them one last time. I screamed and fought with the broken car door, trying to get out before the paramedics and police could remove me.

"Ma'am, you are going to need to remain still, be calm." They said as they cut away the driver's side door. I pushed them back when they got the door open, craning my neck around, looking for the driver of the truck. Other cars were stopped in the area, surrounding the scene. People were clambering out of their vehicles, taking pictures and videos and pointing and staring at the totalled Casse car and family.

I screamed. Where was the driver? Was it not his fault? Did he not care? The truck that had smashed into my family's car was empty, the driver gone. I didn't realize that the passengers in that truck were already in an ambulance, that there was a boy my age in the accident who had survived. Even if I'd have known, it wouldn't have prevented the fury from breaking out from inside of me. I wanted to hit the driver, to pound his skull in, to make him pay for the injuries sustained, but the police officers had held me detained and were loading me into an ambulance.

I looked up at the paramedic strapping me in and pleaded with her. My tears were adding to the bloodstains on my tattered clothes, and I couldn't have looked any more terrified.

"Please," I begged. "Who caused the crash?" She didn't break eye contact, and she didn't tell me anything. She just stared at me silently before proceeding to load me into the vehicle. The sirens blared in both my head and in the air surrounding the accident, swirling the thoughts around my head restlessly.

I fought the restraints, cutting wounds deeper into my arms. Her silence was just silence, it was meaningless, but in my twisted, unhealthy state of mind, I heard that I was the one at fault. Her silence had told me that I was the one who had murdered my family. She told me that it was my fault, that I was the one who ruined any chance I had at a normal, happy life. I screamed and fought until the other paramedic, a man, spoke softly to me.

"You're okay, it'll be alright," His words blended into my thoughts, and the voice shifted from the paramedic to Gray. His voice was calming, I wanted it to truly be him. I wanted to jump up and hug him, to tell him that I was relieved he was there, but I couldn't. The sirens were still blaring, either in the memory or in the fading image of my present life. I fought to wake up, I fought to stay a little longer.

"Wake up, Brooklyn, you'll be alright. Come on, Brook, wake up! WAKE UP!" And maybe it was a mistake, maybe I shouldn't have listened to another person, trusted yet another human. But for some reason, after all I've been through, I listened to Gray, and I fought for consciousness and tried against hope to wake up.