In Color. {l.r.h.}

her || then

A steady snowfall was burying the earth's contents as Halli Clemens practically held her eyelids open to continue driving forward on the open road. She glanced down at her phone in the seat beside her, placing her finger on a button that made it come alive. It read December 23, 3:34 AM.

She needed to sleep. She needed to slow down. She needed to look back at the road. She needed to mind the ice beneath the tires on her small sedan.

It was her first year at university, and stubborn as she was, she'd told her parents she could take on the nine hour drive home for Christmas. She may have fibbed. This was too much pressure for an eighteen year old.

As she gazed back up at the road, a sensation she'd never felt and never hoped to feel took over her body. The car began to spin uncontrollably, with to only helplessly pump the breaks as her mother had taught her.

The car was gaining speed, and she knew what was coming.

It was as if the clunky vehicle had a mind of its own, diving through the railing on the side of the road and into a cavernous ditch. Halli's eyes grew wide as her body dangled freely, suspended in the air. Her heart dropped to her toes. The one time I didn't wear my seatbelt.

She was thrown backwards when the car landed on its side. An eerie creaking noise permeated the silent nightmare she was thrown into. Ever so slowly, the car rolled upside down, shattering the windshield and thrusting her body onto the jagged shards of glass. Onto her arms. Into her eyes. Into her mouth. The last thing she remembered was hearing her own labored breathing and not seeing a thing.

Halli awoke in Gracie Square Hospital, barely believing she was even awake. It was only eerily haunting sounds that informed her she was alive.

"Oh my God, her eyes are open. Halli? Are you awake?" A distinctly familiar voice rang in her ears.

"Mom? Is that you? Are you here?" She ached all over. Her eyes burned.

"Of course I'm here. Can't you--"

An unknown low voice interrupted her. "Mrs. Clemens, may I speak with you in the hall?" Halli didn't even attempt to sit up to hear. Her body was too sore. The room was too dark.

The low voice spoke again, barely audible through the door. "The damage to Ms. Clemen's eyes was... Extensive. Now, the muscle tissues and collagen fibers that make up her eyes should heal over time, but your daughter, she's gone blind. I'm so sorry, but she'll never see again."

Halli was numb. Completely and utterly encompassed by equilibrium. Tears wouldn't dare brim her useless eyes.

She heard her mother sob. "No, she can't be. She's at NYU. She's an art student. She... What about color? She'll never see the sun glisten off the water. Or her wedding dress. Or any of her paintings. Her paintings. You can't do this to her!"

"I'm not doing it, Miss. I'm sorry."

Halli lay alone in a foreign sterile bed with blood drained from her body and no chance to pursue her dream.

"Mom," she called.

The door creaked open. "Yes, doll?"

"I'm blind."

She sniffled. "Yes, doll."