The crash [GIRLXGIRL]

the day that started it all

In the silence of death, a soul whispers its final breath. When the light shone in my eye and my gut flipped like it would on a roller-coaster, like how your stomach would end up in your throat, and your hands would sweat till they were slipping off the handlebars. That's how I felt, but where did it start?

My family would take a yearly trip to Italy. I couldn't wait; my heart jumped out of my chest and across the room. I couldn't wait. Ryan was complaining about the trip; he was going to miss the election for the new class president since we were going during the week. "If I miss this meeting, I won't be class president," he let out a sigh. He had been practicing his speech for a month and was screaming and slamming doors.

"It's president for the eighth grade; you'll be fine," my dad screamed up the stairs. My mother was prone to argue with my brother, but she wasn't; my dad was, which was odd because my dad was always the calm parent. But as a six-year-old, I didn't think much of it; I just assumed she was stressed for the vacation. Alya, my older sister, was doing her hair, and my dad was screaming at her to hurry up, as my mother was slowly packing up her clothes.

We rushed into the car since it was raining and dark outside because we had left at five am to make the plane. Alya was fighting with Ryan about who sat in the middle seat of the car. As the youngest, I was sitting in my car seat, so I didn't have to sit in the middle. Alya won after a hard game of rock-paper-scissors. They were nudging each other; my mom smiled at me through the side mirror. She said, "Maya, baby, are you excited to go to Venice?" My dad turned the volume to a light volume.

"Yeah," I giggled and played with my toy.

"I hope Alya gets left in Venice," Ryan said in a sly voice as he made a face at her. Alya clenched her fist and pounded him on the shoulder, "Oww, mom, she hit me," he grabbed his shoulder and began to fake cry, smirking at her through his tears.

They began throwing hands and swinging at each other; Alya had him in a headlock when Mom leaned back and pulled the two apart. "Enough, the both of you, before I cancel the tickets, and we will go home," she got back in her seat, and Alya and Ryan put their hands on their laps and sat still. Dad chuckled and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "DAD, LOOK OUT," Ryan screamed. It took me exactly 5 seconds to notice what Ryan was talking about; there was a truck in front of us, with pipes and scrap metal on it. Dad tried to break, but the car just began to swerve. "Jane," my dad said, trying to twist the steering wheel. Mom put her hand behind the chair and held mine. The car flipped; my stomach did too. I felt her hand slip out of mine; I tried to grab hold; I did for a second, but then my hand went floppy, and I flung back into my chair; my ears started ringing. It hurt; it really hurt, but then I couldn't feel anything. The car landed on the roof; I began to cry; so did Ryan. "Mom," "Dad," he said through sobs, "my eye hurts," he said. I moved my eyes; I couldn't move my head; they weren't there; they were gone. The windshield was smashed with two holes on each side. "They're dead," he said, his eyes like waterfalls. I could see now a blood trail in front of the windshield with two limp bodies in front of it. "Mommy," I cried; I was going to ask Alya what to do, but I was blocked by a scream from Ryan, "Alya, Alya, look at me," he said. Alya, next to him, was covered with blood; a metal pipe was coming out of her stained red shirt. "I'm OK, I'm OK," she said, waving her arm with a slight chuckle, "help Maya, OK, look after her for me," she said, her eyes filled with tears, "take her hand, take mine," she grabbed his hand, and he grabbed mine; I couldn't feel it, but I'm sure he was. "Alya, you're supposed to look after us, you're older, I'm only thirteen, you're sixteen, you're older," he buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed into it. "I know, but I'm not going to be here forever, and when I'm gone, you need to look after her," she put his fingers through his hair; her hand loosened from his, and her arm fell from his hair onto her lap, her mouth filled with blood. "I will, I promise," her shirt was wet with tears, "Alya, Alya, wake up," he shook her vigorously, "she's gone," he choked on his tears, "what do I do, she always had the answers," he looked at me, "are you OK?" "No, I c-c-can't move," I said, "I don't know what to do; there are no other cars around other than the truck," he said, "I have to get a phone," he said, "Alya has a phone," I said, trying to point, but it didn't work, "it's gone," he was rummaging in her pockets; it was too much for him. I looked up and could see it lying on the roof, which was under us. "I'll get it; you stay still, OK," he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, "Ryan, w-w-wait, I'm scared," "Listen to me, I promise I will get us out of here," he put his hand on me, looked into my eyes, and began to undo his seatbelt. He fell on the roof and screamed, "Oww, I hurt my arm," he wiggled on the ground and began to army crawl to the phone, "shit," I was shocked when he swore. He grabbed the phone and let out a sigh of relief, "I got it; it's really broken," he tried to make me laugh; it didn't work, "she has her password," he tried three times; it didn't work. I remembered something she had shouted at me yesterday because I kept turning it off when I was playing it, "1984," I shouted, "it worked, OK, 911," the phone made a beeping sound, "it's on 5%," he told me. The phone rang for a second; I heard a lady speak over the phone, "911, what's your emergency," the muffled voice said, "hello, I need an ambulance, please," Ryan said in a faint voice; he began to tear up again, "hello, young man, can you tell me your name and what's happened," "I'm Ryan; I've been in a car crash; my little sister's here; she's really hurt," he began to hyperventilate,