The Year I Lost My Talent

Hello everyone. My name is Sarah. I'm new to Wattpad so I have absolutely no idea how everything works. But I'm hoping I can figure it out.

Let it be known that I'm terribly lazy, so I might be pretty inconsistent with updating this novel. Plus I'm on vacation right now and I don't get on the computer much. Please bear with it :)

Anyway, time for me to shut up :P

Hope you enjoy the first chapter :)

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Chapter 1

The summer of my 18th year, my family was falling apart at the seams.

3 weeks ago, my father was involved in a car crash on his commute to work. The other driver, drunk, had rammed into his car, immediately knocking my father out. Upon arriving at the hospital, he was in critical condition. The doctors didn’t expect him to live.

My mother and I held onto the hope that a loved husband, father, and provider would come back to us somehow. But the doctors were right. He didn’t come back.

Dad died just two days later after the accident, and my mother fell into endless despair. Eventually, she lost her appetite, along with the will to cook and clean the house. Mom stopped going to work; days later, I walked over to her workplace to tell them she was resigning. They needed no explanation. That day, I received words of apology from her coworkers, anybody who had heard of my father’s death. Some tried to offer me money. “To help you get through what’s going on,” they said. I declined them all, and left before they could say otherwise.

The average day became one where my mother would often sit at home, speechless, staring at nothing. I often wondered what she was thinking about. What was going through her mind? Nothing? Or everything?

I cooked every day now. Since the accident, my mother and I had switched roles; I was now the one who cooked the meals and did chores around the house. Mom was no longer the person she’d been before, the mother I’d known for 18 years. Dad’s death had changed the both of us. But I couldn’t afford to take a day off or spend time mourning my father. I had to take care of Mom; she was the only family I had left.

The good days were the ones where she helped me a little around the house, or talked to me, asking me things like “How was your day?” or “What are we having for dinner?” We joked around sometimes, or just sat down and talked to each other. Those days almost felt like old times, before the accident had changed everything. Sometimes it seemed everything would be okay. But all good things must come to an end.

There were times when Mom remained in almost a vegetative state, sitting ghostly still, her eyes like glass, unseeing, uncaring. She wouldn’t eat or drink anything, and I rarely saw her get up to do anything. She’d sleep in that same chair until morning, sometimes not sleeping much at all. Those days scared me, and it seemed we were having more of those moments nowadays.

Good and bad days passed by. Coping with Dad’s death didn’t get any easier.

2 weeks later, I sold our car. We needed the extra money, and by then, I’d vowed never to drive a car again. It was too painful. So I rode my bike instead. There was really no need for a car. It’s not like Mom would be driving anytime soon. It was impossible to tell when she’d be her normal self again. It was frightening to think that probably might never happen.

On one of the good days, my mother and I decided to sell the house. It was better to leave the place where all our happy memories with Dad were contained. It was better to leave it all behind. What use was trying to hold onto something you knew you’d already lost? Mom and I moved into our new apartment about a month later. We sold all of our old furniture. In a way, it helped, trying to throw away our past. But it also hurt, knowing we’d be discarding what we’d cherished so much before. Knowing we were running away from the memory of my father, rather than embracing it.

A week later, we were settled in our new apartment, in the process of buying and placing our new furniture. I did most of the work; the bad days were increasing much more nowadays. The good days were diminishing. It scared me that seeing my mother so unresponsive was becoming such a daily thing. But I could do nothing about it.

Days later, Mom fell ill. No amount of coaxing I gave willed her to eat or drink. Finally, she just collapsed. I remember hearing so much screaming, and when I realized it was my own, I’d started to cry. Deep, racking sobs, containing all the anguish that had built up in me in just a month. Everything had gone so wrong since then. Everything was falling apart.

By the time the ambulance arrived, I was in tears. I watched my mother being hauled into the back before the vehicle sped off into the night, flashing red and blue, howling in its wake.

That night, I slept without dreams.

I planned on visiting the hospital three days later. The day before I could leave, I received a letter from the mail.

Addressed to Ms. Castor

Sent from Central Baptist Hospital

I froze. But….I was supposed to visit tomorrow. I stared at the envelope before a wave of terror came over me and I started to rip the paper open in a panicked frenzy. I started skimming over the first few lines when my worst fears were confirmed.

…very sorry...

…nothing we could do…

…we tried our best…

…it just didn’t work out…

…we’re sure she loved you…

“It can’t be,” I whispered. But the evidence was right in front of me in black and white.

I tightened my grip on the letter. My hands balled into fists, crumpling the paper. “No…..NO!”I sank to the floor in misery, clutching my sides. For the second time in three days, my body racked heavily with uncontrollable sobs. Almost nothing held meaning anymore.

Because instead of being Min Castor, that girl who has no father, I was now Min Castor, that girl who has no parents.

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So, that was a bit of an introduction to Min and what was happening and whatnot. Hope you liked it. Sorry it's short. I'll try to make my chapters longer. So....comment, vote, like? I'd love to hear some feedback :)