"Dad come on we have to go! It's 8:30 we won't make it to the airport in time to meet mom!" I readjusted the straps on my tatty backpack containing my makeup, a water bottle and a magazine I bought from the store yesterday.
"Okay okay, get in the car and we should get there just in time" I flashed him a quick smile before hopping out the front door and into dads black Porsche, a few moments later he joined me and started the engine. Dads Oasis CD was playing, I sighed but didn't really mind it.The drive to the airport was long but worth it to finally see mom again.
My mom had just been on her world tour for her book she wrote, it was a book about parenting and seemed to be a hit. She'd been in TV shows such as The Ellen Show and Loose Women. We finally pulled into the car park and walked to join the many taxi drivers with people's names on. I tugged on dads sleeve before handing him moms very own card I had painted and designed myself. A few minutes later a very smiley mom walked towards us and held us in a tight embrace. I finally had my mommy back.
We had been driving home for about an hour in heavy rain, dad was trying to concentrate while me and mom were discussing the most recent episode of Americas Next Top Model (which we was obsessed with).
"Well I'm glad Jessica was voted off, she was too snobby and her boobs are obviously fake" mom sniggered. She knows I liked Jessica.
"Well I think Annabella should have been voted off" I shot back at her, that was her favourite, "she's too... Too blonde" I finished.
"Can we please talk about something other than crap TV shows." Dad pleaded from the drivers seat.
"Okay" my mom chuckled, she is so beautiful with her blue eyes and deep brown hair, her lips her so plump and moist. Don't even get me started on her hour-glass figure. She looked about 20 which is good for a 46 year old. " Maddison honey how's school?" Mom always called me Maddison when we spoke about something important.
I said nothing.
"She's failing physics and philosophy" dad whispered thinking i didn't hear. I did.
"Maddison! We didn't work out asses off helping you get into that school for you to flunk the lessons or-" I didn't let her finish
"It's my life! You can't tell me what to do. I hate you!" tension filled the car.
"Maddison. Apologise to your mother" dad said sternly.
"No" he turned to look at me as we were on a straight road
"Do as you're told now!"
"You can't control me"
"I am your father and you will-" my mom butted in,
"HONEY THE ROAD!" She screamed, dad had swerved into the oncoming traffic and was about to come into contact with a large truck. Before he could do anything we hit it. My vision went black and I thought I was dying.
***
I woke in the hospital what seemed like years after, the clock read 8:33pm, that's 1 hour since the argument began.
"Mom?" I whispered. I looked around and saw my dad next to me, he was unharmed apart from a couple of cuts and a bandage over hit forehead.
"Where's mom?" I asked squeezing dads hand.
"Your mother wasn't so lucky in the accident honey she's in intensive care. They said they would come get us when she's stable." Dad gave me a small smile, it was fake and broken. A tear rolled down my face and as I went to wipe it saw that my fingers must have broke in the crash. It didn't hurt, yet, as I was still drugged up on painkillers. I started shuffling in the bed, dad could tell I was nervous. He reached into his bag.
"A poem? To pass the time until we can see your mother" I nodded "Forever we remain oblivious to the future,
lost to the past and enduring our torture.
Forever we take chances to settle our scores,
losing some battles and winning some wars.
Forever praying out loud hoping someone will hear,
forever crying softly but never shedding a tear.
Forever exists behind a disguise,
but the belief in forever keeps our hearts alive" he closed the book as a male nurse walked through the door.
"She's stable. Her injuries are severe though. If she makes-"
"When" my dad interrupted, the nurse cleared his throat
"When she makes it she has a 75% chance of being paralysed from the waist down for the rest of her life."
"What's the other 25%?" I asked regretting it straight away.
"There is no way we can save her legs, they are crushed. If she doesn't come in that 75% there is a very high chance she won't make it. I'm sorry" I stayed quiet after that as dad and the nurse unhooked me from this machine and we all walked to the intensive care unit where my mom laid. She looked awful. Where her skin wasn't bruised it was pale from blood loss. I stood in the corner as dad spoke to her first. When it was my turn I walked over and took her hand. I kissed her on the cheek and was about to speak when the machine monitoring her heart stopped. We was rushed out by doctors as they tried to revive her.
After 15 minutes of trying they gave up and told us the bad news. I cried for a whole day none stop and didn't eat anything. They crying made me puke up anything that was in my stomach. Dad was a mess. He just sat on the sofa wrapped in her dressing gown drinking beer. At 10 pm two days after she died I sat next to a hollow shell that once was my father and muttered "The last words I ever said to her was 'I hate you' " I broke down in tears again "and now she's gone I can't ever undo what I said."
***
The funeral was the following weekend. I won't go into much detail about that. It was just an out doors funeral. I picked a spot under a pink blossom tree in the cemetery for her to be buried. For the first month I put a rose there every day. The next month once a week and by the third month I visited her grave a lot but not to place flowers. I went there to read to her. I bought a poetry book and each time I went recited a poem to her. Dad hasn't let me go back to school for the first two months.
Aunt Claire (dads sister) eventually came over to help us back on track. she's a miracle worker! Claire had dad back to normal (almost) within a week. She also suggested I saw a doctor who diagnosed me with depression and anxiety again and that resulted in me being sent to support group...
YOU ARE READING
Who I am
Roman pour Adolescents"It's a lot easier to be lost than found, it's the reason we are always searching and rarely discovered- so many locks, not enough keys" Maddie is 16 and has been thrown in the deep end with the whole growing up thing, she struggles to find herself...
