15.06 (#2)

Chapter 17

(Warning: references to sexual abuse and mental disorders. If you're uncomfortable with those topics please skip this chapter)

"The drunk driver who killed my parents. He's served his time for vehicular manslaughter so now he'll be out on probation in three days." She laughed bitterly. "10 years. It's been 10 years since my parents and sister have died and this man gets to live the rest of his life a free man? Oh and the irony is that, here I was drowning myself in the same poison that killed my family." Understanding seeped into me as I felt some of the pain that she had felt.

"You have no idea what these last 10 years have been for me." She said.

"Why don't you tell me?" She looked at me, a flash of vulnerability crossed her face.

"Because..."

"Because what Rori?"

"I don't know." She uttered the first truthful thing I've heard in years.

"Then tell me."

"Fine. I don't expect you to stay after I tell you. I'm just giving you a fair warning." She told me.

"I've waited seven years for you to open up, I'm ready."

"So it all started April of 2005, we were coming back from one of my dance competitions. It was a stormy night so visibility was poor and the roads were slippery. We were happy because my team had won, so we were singing to the radio and celebrating. The next few moments are hazy because it happened all too fast. The man came out of nowhere with his fog lights on, blinding my dad. All it took was one second and he lost control of the car. We got steered off the road down the hill. I think we must have rolled at some point as well I can't remember because I blacked out. When I regained consciousness our car was sinking in a freezing lake and my dad was passed out. I think he was passed out, or he was already dead I couldn't tell because it was chaos.

I managed to unbuckle myself so I tried to help my sister while my my mom helped dad. It felt like days being stuck in that metal death trap. Eventually the paramedics came and got us out the car. My sister had hit her head quite violently against the window, my dad's leg had to be cut so they could get him out the car because it was pinned by some metal or the other. My mom, oh god my mom. The windshield had shattered on impact and a large piece had embedded itself in her abdomen. I was left with a freaking broken leg and arm and a severe concussion while my dad died on the way to the hospital, my mom died in the operating theatre and my sister died from traumatic brain injury that night.

What had I done wrong to deserve this? I should be dead like they are. I shouldn't have gotten away with fractures and a concussion. Three days later two army officials came to visit me. My brother had been killed in action, and they were sorry for my loss. They didn't fucking care. I had lost all my family in one week, they didn't know how I felt. My last living grandmother was somewhat lucid enough to pay for the funerals and sign away my guardianship to that state. I was completely alone in the world and entered the foster system. The first few weeks I was placed in a foster home till they found me a group home since I was already 15 by then. I didn't speak to anyone, not even the therapist. I spent every day reliving my nightmares, day in and day out. The memories of the accident hit me worse at night so eventually I stopped sleeping so often. I started cutting to keep myself awake, but eventually the pain didn't affect me anymore. I dug myself further into a hole, depression and self loathing.

Summer came and I was finally placed in a group home. It was filthy and unkept. God know's how many diseases crawled through those hallways. The man in charge of the home was a drunkard, while his wife was too afraid to do anything against him. Every night I'd be awake to hear her screams as he raped her, while me and the smaller kids lay in bed, wincing every time she screamed for help. I tried once, but I ended up with a black eye, a spiral fracture and a bruised rib. That place was hell, so I tried to make friends with the other kids there. I was one of the oldest, the other being a boy who was usually sneaking off to get high to be any help anyways. He turned 18 and left, leaving me to defend the younger kids.