Assassin of the Night

I don't remember.

I don't remember who I was before the accident. I couldn't remember who my family was, only their names and what each member looked like was the only real memory I had. I couldn't even remember when my own birthday was.

  I could remember very little, if anything at all

 The people at the orphanage say that my name is Esther Marie Robinson; but I don't know what to believe anymore. The plane crash was six months ago, and that was the day that my world had turned upside down. That day, February 12th, 2013 will forever be burned into my brain as a very vivid memory.

 The memory that no twelve-year-old should ever have.

  I remember the accident as though it were yesterday. It is the only thing that I can remember for certain.

 I close my eyes, remembering that awful day.

 My family and I sat in first class, as we usually did whenever we traveled somewhere by plane. My parents sat in the very front of the first class section while my sister, Hannah and I, sat a little bit further back. From what I remember, my sister was a younger version of myself; both of us were beautiful by society standards. Long, waist length, pale blonde hair and big, bright blue eyes that would make anyone feel uneasy talking to us. Hannah and I both wore tight braids down the middle of our backs, giggling with joy as the plane took off.

"Daddy, do you have my crayons and coloring book?" Hannah asked, blue eyes peering at our father, John, as he turned around to gaze at her little blonde head peeking over the seat.

 I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes as Daddy handed me the coloring book and crayons.

 "My God, Hannah, you're such a baby. Grow up, will you!" I scolded, handing the Disney Princess coloring book and packet of crayons to the nine-year-old as she sighed and began to color, occasionally looking out the window as she did so.

 The first hour of the plane ride went as smoothly as could be expected, the flight attendants occasionally coming by and asking if we needed anything, to which we politely declined.

 Then, what happened next will haunt me for the rest of my life. The nose of the plane swooped down, and I could hear this loud beeping, almost like an alarm blaring to wake one up in the morning. I jumped out of my seat, stupidly, and fell to the ground, crawling into the economy class in a desperate attempt to get to the emergency exit so I could help if need be, to make sure if everyone was okay.

 My mother, Anne-Marie, kept screaming my name as I continued to make my way up the aisle as everyone was screaming, some crying, trying to quickly put on the oxygen masks.

 Everything went down hill from there.

 Literally.

 The last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital was someone grabbing me, with enough force that I had hit my head on the window as they applied the oxygen mask to my face.

 My vision went blurry and everything went black.

 I opened my eyes and wiped the tears from them.

 The day that I had woken up in the hospital, my head was heavily bandaged, and I had a broken ankle and from what the doctor had told me, I needed surgery to remove a piece of shrapnel that had been embedded between my ribs, breaking two of them, along with a mild concussion. They had worked hard to save me, having to resuscitate me twice on the way to the hospital and once on the operating table.

 Everything before that was a blur, the next few days had been them asking me questions, and I constantly asking where my parents and little sister were.

 The look on the doctor and nurses faces said it all...no one had to tell me my parents, not even sweet little Hannah, so sweet and innocent, had lived

I already knew.

 Since I had no living relatives; no grandparents, and my parents were only children, the only other option was to move to the orphanage in Santa Barbara, California, locking myself in my bedroom at my new "home" for weeks on end.

 Since the accident, the only thing I had ever wanted was to be adopted, but no one was going to adopt a damaged child with memory loss.

 Who would?

 My name is Esther.

 This is my new life.

 My story.