Smile, The Worst Is Yet To Come :)

Chapter 3

I waited by the bus stop outside the hospital after I was discharged. The sun had begun to set, even though it was only 4:20. I had nowhere else to go, no place to be, nothing urgent I had to do, so this is where I remain. My beat-up backpack hung loosely behind me.
I imagined Jenna was here. Her head would be resting in my lap, her soft hair dangling off my legs. I'd be trying to count how many hairs she had, until she'd start fidgeting too much. I'd act angry before my act was done and we were both laughing. She'd slowly lift her head off me and sprint over to the other side of the street, and then-
Then her body stood still as a car came colliding with it.
No, no, no.
That red hole in the center of her body came to mind again. I tried to shake it out, tried to rid it out of my thoughts, but it stayed, like some traumatic event that just keeps replaying over and over again in my mind.
I brought my knees up to my chest and hid my head in between the cracks.
"No, no, no. Stop, please stop," I whined silently to myself. I continued doing that until the image of that night left my head. I let out a sigh when I couldn't remember what clothes my mom was wearing and what my sister's laughing face looked like.
My breathing slowed down. I didn't realize it had sped up. My red cheeks turned back to their normal shade. My brain was overheated, but it was calming down now. All the nerve that was hidden in me two minutes ago disappeared. My anxiety was gone, but I knew it would be back. Hopefully in a million years.
I was too anxious, that's all. I think that's going to happen again, even though it's not. They're all dead. They can't die again. That's impossible. If that isn't the case, then this life isn't real.
I slowly brought my legs down. They touched the ground perfectly fine.
I began watching the street at the cars and trucks passing by. I was supposed to learn how to drive this year, maybe get my permit, but now, with this predicament at hand, I don't know if I can.
Jenna and I have been homeschooled all our lives, but just because we're homeschooled doesn't make us automatically dumber than the kids that go to public schools and receive their education from a trained teacher. Our parents were smart. My father was a lawyer, while my mom was a marine biologist. They were both bilingual, and they'd achieved countless awards long before I was born.
Now they're gone.
I checked the time. 4:28. She should be here any minute.
With every second passing by, I grew more and more curious about my new home. I knew that I would technically still have guardians. It's not them I'm worried about. It's the people who are just like me. The orphans, the outcasts. The kids who technically have a normal life, yet can never go back to living that life. I'm scared of their draconian attitude and their cruel ways that they live by. I'm terrified of the things they operate under, and I don't want to fall into that. I would hate to become one of the kids who think this is the end of the road for them.
I heard screeching of tires. A dull gray car pulled up in front of me, and the window rolled down. Stacy's head leaned down until she could see me and gave me a warm smile. No makeup was on her face. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed, yet she looked so beautiful and lovely. I could feel my heart beeping faster and faster with each second I spent gazing at her.
Play it cool, Jeremy. Chill.
"Hey," she chirped. I grinned a bit. At least I have her. She seems trustworthy. But, how would I know?
"Hi." The silence was incredibly awkward as I stood there, unmoving, outside of her car. Her beauty somehow had the power to make me stop whatever I was doing and just admire her and her everything. I wouldn't be surprised if she drove off right then and there because my brain decided to shut off on me right at that moment.
"Are you coming?" I snapped out of my trance and nodded at her. She unlocked the door and I hopped in. The backseat was filled with multiple laundry baskets and wrinkled clothing. I was hit with a big wave of sweat that was kind of masked by the light scent of cotton. I crinkled my nose.
"Yeah. I know," she said when she saw my disgusted face. "I take the laundry to the washers every week," she explained. Her attention seemed to be on something else. "And, ah, you're going to come with this time. Sorry, I didn't want to surprise you or anything." She revved up her car and drove off at an alarmingly fast pace.
"Yeah- I mean, yes, ma'am," I replied, trying to remember what Mrs. Wilson rambled on about yesterday. She scoffed as she made an turn.
"Jesus, kid. I don't work that way," she said softly. She smirked. "I'm still an immature 22-year old. I don't deserve that high of a pedestal."
I frowned. "But yesterday... You were so polite and... You seemed mature." I was hoping she wasn't giving me a cryptic message that would be impossible to decipher. She chuckled.
"That's just with Mrs. Wilson. You just have to act that way around her because she wants you to. She wants all of her kids to be proper and have manners. I don't personally care about how you talk to me." She hit the brakes, and we went forward. I shut my eyes as I flung against my seatbelt. The memories were crawling back into my mind and I didn't want to allow them access.
Stacy gave me an apologetic glance. "Sorry. I'm not a very good driver, as you can tell."
"It's okay," I replied, readjusting my seatbelt and my backpack. "Just... Don't send me flying again, please."
"Got it," she said. And she didn't. She drove on at a mild pace. She checked her mirrors, used her signal (she didn't know where it was), and she did not merge lanes when we were at an intersection. She must've known about my case, what happened to me, or she probably wouldn't have been this cautious. She was doing everything in her power to 1) not get in an accident and 2) not let what happened to me happen again.
Stacy pulled up to a stoplight and turned to me. "So, Jeremy. Tell me a bit about yourself." The stoplight turned green, and we accelerated slowly.
Tell her about myself? I shrugged. "What's there to tell? I mean, you already know what happened to me and my family-"
"No, not about that. Like, how old are you? Or, where were you born? Which hospital? What's your favorite color, food, video game, TV show? Or how about, um, what time do you usually go to bed? Maybe you could tell me about what you like to do during your free time." She looked at my hopefully. I never though about those kind of things. I never had any friends to tell those kind of things to.
"Um, well... I'm 15, going onto 16 in the next couple months," I began. She was all-ears, so I continued. "I was homeschooled for my entire life with Jenna."
"Your little sister?"
"Yep. And I was hoping to get my license in the upcoming year, which can probably still happen."
She slammed on the gas pedal and we went off at a quick speed. I braced myself. "Hell yeah, it's going to happen!" she exclaimed. "Do you have your permit?"
"Yeah."
"Awesome. If I give you the address, can you take us to the laundry mat?"
"Don't you need to be 25 to supervise me? Or, at least be my legal guardian?" I questioned.
"Technically, I do count as your legal guardian. I signed the papers yesterday. You're my 48 kid." I scratched my head. Coming out of that accident, completely traumatized and scared for my life, did not make things easier. I sometimes wish I could just shove those thoughts and feelings and haunting memories in my back pocket. Especially right now.
"I mean... I, I just don't really know if I want to drive right around now, y'know? I just came out of the hospital, and now that my thoughts are filled to the brim with my family's death and whatnot-" I felt a shock go up my back. I ignored it, "-I... I don't really know how comfortable I am with doing the thing that got my family... killed..."
"C'mon, bro. If you pass up this opportunity, there won't be another one like it," she said. I was tempted, but those memories kept coming back to me at the worst times possible.
I silently prayed that what she was saying wasn't real, that she wasn't actually going to force me to-
The area around us cleared. We were no longer in the city, filling with sky scraping, reflecting buildings and men and women in business suits. We'd ended up in what looked like the fields in Kansas, which is strange since I live in California in the rural areas of Napa. Miles of field surrounded us, like a never-ending ocean of green and golden-yellow and white buds sprouting from their branches. Fences guarded them and didn't allow entry. Part of the fence, however, had broken down up ahead of us. This entryway was big enough to fit a truck, and led directly onto a dried-out field. She drove into it. There were no cars anywhere except for behind us, back on the road. The land looked to be abandoned and worthless, judging by the brown grass and the fact that there were no crops or grass growing in either direction. I looked up ahead. I saw a frame for a farm about an acre away from us. The frame was perfect, new in every way. However, the pieces of debris left lying on the ground underneath it were scorched black. I knew about this place. I've heard about it from my dad. There was no grass anywhere within a ten yard radius of the place; it had burned down to the ground a while back. The owner had tried to rebuild the place. I guess they just gave up trying.
She braked at the midway point between the road and the burn farm. She turned to me. "Switch," she said. We both hopped out of our seats. I took a nice deep breath of the air, blowing lightly with the few trees and the dead grass growing around me for miles. The scent of fresh apples and oranges floated over to me. Mockingbirds were singing their lungs out, chirping on and on until I was scared they were going to pass out or run out of oxygen.
I sat down in the driver's seat and stared down at the buttons and levers and pedals. The wheel looked daunting as ever. My driving skills were a bit rusty, but I was determined to go through with it.
My breath was shaky as I turned her key in the ignition. I placed my hands at both ten and two and took a deep breath.
Fire on his body.
Smoke filling the air.
Blood. There was so much blood.
Their warmth, their life, being sucked right out of them.
Four, three, two. Gone.
Only one remaining. Only one left.
I'm so tired of life, and I haven't even begun to live it yet.
My breathing grew heavy. The glowing bright orange skies fell away, as I was left with that night building itself up around me. I blinked once, twice. Nothing seemed to change. I felt the cool leather seat pressed up against my legs. The seatbelt was restraining me from moving anywhere, anywhere, anywhere. I glanced around. I saw three other people sitting in the vehicle with. They were doing what they were doing that night: driving, on their phone, drawing on the windows. Everything seemed to be fine. Everything was okay.
This cannot be happening. I hid my head in my hands and began to whimper. Not again, not again, not again. Please, God, not now-
Bam.
Fire. I watched as my dad's lower body was burned to the bone. He wasn't making a sound, he knew this was going to happen to him eventually. My mother was the one making the noise, screaming her head off as the piece of metal went sliced straight through her body and broke her into two. Jenna was crying both salty tears and her own sweet blood. It dripped down to my leg and fell to the rugged carpet.
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I attempted to open my eyes, but my eyelids remained glued shut. I was completely cut off from reality. I knew the world I was currently living in wasn't reality, but it sure as hell felt like it was.
The blue and red lights came out again. They never made it to us.
"Hey. It's going to be alright, okay? You're going to be okay. Breath in, and out."
And angel came to save me.
"Jeremy? Can you hear me? If you can, do as I say. Breath."
I began breathing. In. And out. In. And out. Over and over again. My jagged patterns turned normal after a couple minutes of doing that. The tears had stopped. My hands relaxed, and when they did, I felt the world begin to place itself back together again. When I had calmed down, which took a while, Stacy patted me on the back.
"Do you want to switch back?" she asked quietly. As much as I wanted to drive, I don't think I could ever get in the drivers seat without having a mental breakdown. I nodded, and by the next minute, we were back in our original seats and she had driven off, away from the burnt up farm that no one seemed to care about. The mockingbirds were no longer singing. There was nothing to sing about.