Finding My Way

Arrival

   It was winter when I arrived at my new home. The cold wind lashed against my skin, warning me that I shouldn't have come. The wind needn't do this though, for I already knew that my coming here was a mistake. It was not of my own will to journey to Tennessee, with it's freezing winter temperatures, but it was of my father's. Before I moved here, I lived in Miami, FL. I had good friends, a nice house, a safe neighborhood, a loving mother... Life seemed blissful for me there, a life of contentment and happiness. But then, the accident happened. 

    My mother was taking me home from school when we rounded a corner. I blinked, and it happened. A blue Ford Fusion with a drunk behind the wheel swerved suddenly and... and then it got worse. My mother slammed the brakes but her efforts were in vain. Our car slammed into the road wall on our left. I collided with the front of the seat, and then my body was flung sideways. The sound was deafening, and smoke began to envelope the inside of the car. I coughed and it was difficult to breathe. When the car became silent and most of the smoke subsided, I slowly propped myself up. Then reality set in and I knew I had to make sure she was okay. My mother was the only person who truly understood me. My friends were alright, but they just didn't understand when I was trying to make a point. She was the closest and most cherished person I knew, and I wouldn't let some drunkard take her away from me. 

     I quickly thrust open my door and around the now demolished car. I couldn't really move my left arm and my side felt as if it were fire, but I refused to let the pain slow me down when I thought about just how much more suffering she was likely going through. I became especially worried when I realized that the driver's side got the worst of the impact. The entire front side of the car looked as if it had been hit by a bus. I grabbed the driver's side door and tugged it as hard as I could. It took effort, but opened easier than expected. "Mom!?" I cried. The window was shattered, a crack much like a spider web throughout the center. Then pain struck me, for it was then I saw my mother. Her form was drooping limply across the seat. I tried to calm myself as my mind began to fear for the worst. I stood there a moment, pulling myself together. Then, very slowly, I reached for my mother. Her mouth lay wide open, frozen in an expression of shock. I could hear the ambulance in the distance, and I tried to use that fact to comfort me, but all I could do was look at her and just know that she was not okay, nor would she ever be. I summoned all of my courage and slowly reached down and picked up my mother just as the ambulance arrived. 

      The paramedics made me lie on a cot even though I fought back, screaming for my mother. They stuck a needle in me that caused me to black out, and the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital room. They had me strapped down to the bed, which was smart, considering the state I was in. I started yelling again, demanding to see my mother. When they finally calmed me down, they explained that my mom suffered serious head trauma, and wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. I cried and begged them to help her, but deep down I knew that she was finished. I sobbed until the doctor came in and led me to her room. When I walked in, the large crowd of nurses surrounding my mother parted, allowing me to examine her wounds. "Mom!" I rushed over to her, then kneeled down beside the bed. The doctor placed his hand on my shoulder. "She can't hear you. I'm really sorry, Violet." I started to get really upset, so they took me back to my room and made me fall asleep again. The next day, I got to go home, but, of course, my mother wasn't allowed to leave.

    She died a month later. I would visit her everyday, telling her everything I did that day. I would tell her that, when she woke up, we were going to take a big vacation, just the two of us. I guess I knew how childish I was being, to talk to an unconscious person, but I didn't care. I prayed every night, begging God to heal her, just hoping that she would miraculously recover. She didn't though, and when she died, I became confused and angry at the my father, friends, everyone. The world was my enemy. 

    Eventually, the anger died down and it left me in my current state, still confused, but full of sadness and loneliness as well. I am a different person now. One that frightens the people around me. My friends drifted away, and even my father worries for my state of mind. That is why we moved. My father thinks that Tennessee will be a fresh start for me. He believes that a new background will change my emotional state. For him to believe that the climate will change my mood though, is just proof that he does not, and will not ever, understand my pain. It feels like a giant hole has ripped through my chest, and is slowly, and painfully spreading through the rest of my body. We have moved to a small town in Overton County called Livingston. It is a lot different than Miami, the crime rate a lot lower for one thing. The people are nice too. I really wish I could like it, I do. But no matter what the town is like, I know that deep down I will never be normal ever again.