Silent Wounds(on hold)

Chapter 1| The accident

NONTSIKELELO

The night was perfect. Almost too perfect, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

I remember sitting in the backseat of my father's car, the soft hum of the engine beneath us, and the city lights blurring past the windows. My little brother, Langa, sat beside me, tapping away on his phone, too caught up in whatever game he was playing to join in on the conversation. Mom and Dad were talking quietly up front, discussing the plans for the weekend, or maybe it was about my birthday dinner. Honestly, I wasn't paying much attention. My mind was still buzzing with the excitement of turning 17, of finally being seen as an adult.

"Are you sure you don't want to have a party?" my mom had asked for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

"I'm sure, Ma. I wanted something small," I answered, smiling at the rearview mirror where her eyes met mine. "Besides, this dinner was more than enough."

She smiled back at me, her face soft and warm, illuminated by the streetlights. My dad, always the silent one, reached out and squeezed her hand. The simple gesture of love between them made me feel safe, like nothing could touch us. We were together. And that was all that mattered.

I turned my attention back to my phone, scrolling through the birthday messages my friends had sent me, feeling a warmth settle in my chest. Life was good. My future was wide open, and I couldn't wait to start living it.

Then, out of nowhere, my father's voice cut through the calm. "Hold on."

His tone was sharp, unlike anything I'd ever heard from him before. I looked up, and in that instant, the world outside the car became a blur of lights and motion. Headlights, bright and blinding, came rushing toward us from the wrong side of the road. Everything slowed down. I saw my mother's hand fly to her mouth in shock. I heard Langa scream beside me, his voice high-pitched and terrified. My father's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to swerve out of the way, but it was too late.

The impact was deafening.

Metal crunched against metal, glass shattered, and my body was thrown violently to the side. My head slammed against the window, and pain exploded behind my eyes. I could hear my mother screaming-no, begging-my father's desperate gasp, and Langa's panicked voice calling out to me. But it was all drowned out by the sound of the car flipping, rolling over and over, each crash harder than the last.

Then, silence.

For a moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. Everything hurt, my body heavy and pinned by the seatbelt. The world was spinning, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I could taste blood, feel it dripping down my forehead, but I didn't care. I had to know if they were okay.

"Mom?" My voice came out a weak whisper, barely audible over the ringing in my ears. "Dad? Langa?"

Nothing.

Panic surged through me, stronger than the pain. I forced myself to turn my head, wincing as my vision swam. My mother was slumped forward, her seatbelt still holding her in place, but there was something wrong with the way she looked. She wasn't moving. My father was the same, his hand still clutching the steering wheel, but he was too still. Too quiet.

"Mom?!" I called again, louder this time, my throat burning with each word. I reached out to touch her, but my arm refused to move the way I wanted it to.

Langa. Where was Langa?

I twisted in my seat, ignoring the sharp pain that tore through my ribs. He was beside me, his head resting against the window. Blood was streaked across his face, and his eyes were closed.