The Sum Of All Differences

PROLOGUE-THE ACCIDENT

I was so young then when it all happned. I just remeber being in the back seat balling my eyes out, my nose bleeding, my ears ringing, eyes hurting. It seems so natural for this to happen on a daily basis. But for this to pop out of no where, for this to happen to me, now that is a whole different story.

I was around the age of four or five. We were on our way home from a family road trip, a vacation I originally didn't want to go on. But at that age, I didn't really have a choice. So dealt with my sorrows and had a good time. That was until the accident happened.

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It was 7:34 P.M. The sun drew it's last breath before disappearing over the hills, causing the atmosphere to drape a black cloak over us. A darkness that can never be seen with the brightest light. My eyes adjusted to my unfamiliar surroundings, grasping hold of my older brother's arm for comfort.

"Are you scared Heron?" asked Nathan, trying his best to keep me calm. I nodded my head and he pulled me closer to him, letting me feel the warmth of his grey jacket against my cheek, suddenly giving cold skin a burning sensation I never want to let go of.

"Close your eyes. Try to think of the light. Bring that beauty towards you. Breath in the morning, exhale the night, as if you have never seen black as a color. Black as the definition of dingy." He meets my grey-ish brown eyes and lowers my head, still holding my hand. The way he talks, the way he breathes, that is all I need for him to relax me. No poem, no song, just his voice to help guide me through the disapproving gloom that hangs over me. Laying my head on his lap, hand in my sweaty palm, I drift off to a sleep that can not be disturbed by any fear that creeps over my skin, pleading for a scream.

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Waking to the warm heat from the sun, I rub the sleep from my eyes and try to make out the objects in front of me. But things aren't clearing up.

"Is she ok Doc?" says a muffled voice I can't quite make out.

Doc? What does that mean? Where am I? Where is Nathan? Dad? Mom? What happened?

Eager to get out of my bed, I find nothing but a hazy pale blue room with a white chair and white bed. The "sun" that I woke up to is only a heating lamp. A bed that is not mine, a bed I do not recognize, I still sit on it until someone walks into the room I am kept in. My vision isn't the best right now, but it seems like it's fading from the corners, making my peripheral vision nonexistent. Impossible for me to see anything. Struggling to see, I stand with little strength I have, but not enough to keep me up for more than a second.

Quick hands grab me before hitting the floor and my senses detect eyes beating down on me.

"Nathan, put her on the bed." Dad. Why is he here and not telling me what is going on. A terrible ache springs through my head and I make a small groaning sound.

Nathan? What? Why...? How...?

My brother obeyed and set me back where I first sat after I woke up.

With the ache still banging against my skull, my vision is becoming worst. I can only see the center of my eyes, almost closing up my puplies. As this being a sign of something wrong with me, I break the silence with my cracking voice.

"Dad? Nathan? Where am I?" (FYI: I was a pretty fluent four or five year old at the time.)

They give me blank startes, summoning the anxiety I once had in the car back to the surface, hiting just above my throat.

Dad says,"Heron, everything is ok. I have everything figured out ok?" I can tell he is nervous. He is lying. I can feel him shaking and hear his voice quivering a bit. Why though, I don't know.

By the time he turns around to talk to the person on his left (who I presume is the doctor), my eyes have nothing to look at, nothing to see, nothing I can bare to stare at to give me scurity. Natahn. i desperately try not to cry while I sit in silence, waiting for them to speak again. But there is no use, I can hear them from where I am perched upon, a white hospital bed. It sounds like they are five feet away from me, whispering sentences. I don't know what they are saying but I keep hearing the words Mom, vision, and service dog. I can't hear anything else and I can't take it anymore. My nerves are shook and I need to know what is going on.

"Dad. Nathan. Why am I here. Service dog? Mom? Where is she?! Vision! I can not even see a thing right now and I can hear you while I am sitting right here! What is going on?!" My elevated voice hangs in the air, making everything more uncomfortable than what is already awkward.

Wanting the tears to burst out, they don't come and all I have to do and sit and wait for them to reply to my questions. Nathan answers first.

"Heron, when you were asleep, there was a car accident. And during that time, when I had to carry you out of the car to the hospital, your eyes had shards of glass in them. We had to get you medical treatment immediately. You were rushed into the operation room and preformed for cataract surgery. Good thing your eye is fine and we don't have to replace them with glass replicas, during the process of the operation, your vision began to fade quickly. They were able to preserve it for a few weeks but not for long." Nathan looks down at the ground, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. He knows things aren't going to end well, especially from a tempered four or five year old.

My heart drops to my stomach, I want to cry so bad, but there are no waterworks today. Not ever again probably. I close my eyes, praying a miracle happens and my brother is kidding, even though this isn't a joking matter.

Weeks? How long was I out for?

After taking a breather, I jump in with more questions. "Where is Mom then? Does she know?" Silence falls over the room. But it is broken when my doctor (I am assuming) goes into depth on the car crash, how my brother and dad are ok, I was severely injured. Before going on he looks to my dad and towards my brother. They give him a reassuring nod to something he is about to tell me. Something I know is not going to be good news.

"Heron, you see your mother-she's..." The lights go out and the glass breaks from the windows in the room, letting in the cold breeze chill my bones that won't function properly. Screaching comes from my heart-rate monitor and my water supply bag begins to bubble.

When the lights are back on, everyone asks if they are ok, except for me. I sit with a mornful expression, looking up with nothing to see. But I sit flushed in the cheeks, my body boiling over with anger. That day I knew that was not an accident, not a coincidence. That really happened. And that all came from me.