Craver

Three.

Curiosity – a nine lettered word, appearing so small but holding such a great meaning. Curiosity itself may be dangerous and yet it can change your whole life in the best way. The small word that could kill a cat and who knows what could do to a human.

I happened to be a very curious person. All my life I had been nothing but a curious little child. I was always wondering and asking questions about so many things but I also would get myself in so many different situations I didn't quite know how I ended up in, and why? Because I was curious.

I remember this one time, maybe it is one of the first memories I have. I was 5 years old and I found myself following a little firefly. It was summer and we were on our assumed holiday. After a while I had chased the firefly for so long I ended up in the middle of a forest, not knowing which the right way to go back was. But I did not cry like every other 5 year old kid would. I just sat somewhere and waited and waited. I even fell asleep at some point but I was found a few minutes later by my father.

It was exactly my curiosity that got me into the situation I'm in, helping a total stranger.

The blistering cold of that November day was not making my way to the hospital any easier. The boy whose name I did not know had mentioned that Charlotte was on a very bad condition and I had to see her or at least know what was happening to her.

How did he know anyway?

The second I got into the hospital the familiar unpleasant feeling took over my body. I was reminded how not long ago I had crossed these halls to get into my parents car but that was not what was causing the bad feeling inside me. I just really hated hospitals and whatever happened on those institutions.

"I'm here to see Charlotte Worth." I told to the lady behind the counter of the huge hospital hall. She stared at me behind her huge thick glasses.

"Are you family?" She asked.

"No, I'm her friend."

"I guess I can't help you then, I'm sorry." Did she just really brush me off like that?

"Could you at least tell me how she is or something? Anything?"

"I'm afraid I can't." Gosh, is she for real?

"Please." I sounded desperate and so I was. "Look, I was involved in the whole thing that happened to her as well but here I am, all good and she's there suffering and God knows what else. Can you just please tell me what's wrong with her?"

She just stared at me for a while as if she was fighting an inner battle whether to tell me or not. "Listen," she said "your friend was shot and lost a lot of blood and she also has an awfully bad concussion. That's all I can tell you."

The new information hit me hard, just like a full-speeding car would hit something the driver had not seen. Charlotte, my best friend, the one who had been there for me through thick and thin, the one who had gotten me in and out so many troubles, the only one I could trust had been shot. Was it her blood that fell upon my dress that night? Had I been covered on my best friend's blood?

What I felt was not sadness. It wasn't anger towards the awful men either, and it wasn't fear of losing my best friend. What I felt was far from any of those feelings and far, far away from any other feeling. Emptiness filled me. I could feel nothing but emptiness.

Maybe that's what you feel when you realize you're so close to losing someone that means so much, someone you love with your whole heart. That's what you feel when none of your feelings would make a change. That's what you feel when you can't feel anymore. Emptiness was all that I could feel.