Away From The Rain. [ON HOLD]

PROLOGUE. [ON HOLD]

Sunday was always family day. We would eat a delicious breakfast by mom and then hit the road in dad’s 1965 Ford truck; its rusty turquoise color had always looked amazing in my eyes. Dad wanted to change it many times but I ended up convincing him to leave it that way every time.

My four-year-old sister and I would always sit in the back of the truck fooling around and letting our brown hair get messed up by the wind. Dad was almost always behind the wheel, which I never thought was the best idea, since he was never exactly sober. I don’t think mom ever knew he drank that much because she would have never let him drive with that amount of alcohol in his blood.

You wonder how I knew?

One night I woke up really late and tried to find my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but a light in dad’s office had stopped me from what I was going for. I looked through a slim gap to see what he was doing and I found him drinking, from what I could judge the bottle, it was his seventh or eight glass of whiskey. Since that night I knew dad had a drinking problem. He saw me spying on him and punished me by hitting me and giving me a ‘why spying on others was a bad thing’ and ‘why I should never tell anybody’ speech. I kept my promise, because I knew that if I would tell someone, Steve would hit me again.

Mom knew he hit me, but she could never do anything about it because he would hit her as well. The only one who was safe from his fists was my sister Savannah; I always tried to keep her away from my dad, I didn’t want her to know what it was like to feel that pain.

I never truly understood how a mother like mine could be with a cruel, aggressive, careless, mean, drunk man like him. She was the complete opposite. Maybe I knew but I never wanted to accept it could be true. Was love really so strong? Or was it just a stupid feeling, which made you blind and unable to see the reality?

That sunny morning we would stay in the area and go to the beach, which was only a view miles away from home. Savannah and I were all ready in the back of the truck. Mom got into the passenger seat and dad started the car. We were halfway there when Life is a highway by Tom Cochrane started playing in the radio. Something about that song always seemed ironic to me. Why? Because my mother lost her life on one.

***

 Dad was way over the speed limit but he would not slow down.

     “Savannah, Noah sit down correctly and don’t move.” Mom yelled from the front seat turning to my dad. “Steve. Please slow down!”

       “Come one Jane. Let me have a little fun with this old truck.”

       “Please Steve.” Mom said with fear in her voice.

     “Life is a highway honey.” He said quoting the lyrics and not lowering the speed. I could see form behind that mom was holding thigh to the door handle, her breathing was heavy.

    “STEVE!” Mom yelled before I felt a huge impact. The car turned over and Savannah and I got catapulted out immediately. I hugged her body trying to protect her from the impact. We were lying on the middle of the highway but the car continued rolling over. The car stopped when it hit against a tree, I got up as soon as I heard nothing, feeling a little dizzy but I approached the car anyways. Dad climbed out the car with an open wound on his forehead and leg. I waited for mom to climb out as well, but she didn’t.

The man who was in the other car had saved himself somehow, which really surprised me since his car was a totally messed up. With a blurry view I climbed into the car looking for my mom, she was unconscious had a huge wound on her chest and her legs where stuck. I heard the strangers voice call 911.

I was with her in the car. While we waited for the ambulance, I tried to keep her chest closed so she wouldn’t bleed so much. When she died, my hands… felt her heart stop beating.

“Tell ‘em we’re survivors.” Where the last words I heard in the radio before I passed out.

Mom died when I was eight and dad disappeared from our life’s that day. I promised Savannah and myself to take care of her for the rest of my life, but shortly after, we got placed in foster and therefore we got separated. I went through 17 foster families in 9 years. When I turned 18 I got independent and joined medical school. Till the date I’m still looking for my sister and I won’t give up till I have her in my arms again.

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