Heal

the broken

My mom was singing in the shower, my dad was mocking her through the walls, my brother was playing his music loud enough to block it out, and I was standing in my door frame taking it all in.

"Packed, Myra?" My dad chirped from his bedroom. I nodded at my suitcase, which lay directly in front of him as he strolled, topless and carrying a shaver, towards me. "Ah! Sharon! This is a special day in history! That's it folks, Myra Shay is ready on time!" He held his electric shaver to his mouth like it was some microphone and I could help but chuckle at his horrible accent. With his aftershave I almost believed he had a beard.

"What was that, Mark?" My mom poked her head round the door in nothing but a towel. I hadn't heard her get out of the shower and by the distance my dad jumped, he hadn't either.

She laughed with me at dad's bemused expression. "Myra's ready." He said, regaining himself and putting his arm around my mom. She blushed, but pushed him away, managing to hold her towel up at the same time.

"Someone's eager." She grinned, patting my dad on the head and then going on to wipe some of his aftershave off and smearing it on his chest. I turned away before they could carry on their weird acts of affection.

I hid away in my bedroom, opening the curtains to a pitch black morning sky. The moon had disappeared from view, but I knew the sun was just around the horizon.

It was 3 am.

Our flight left at 7:30 am.

I yawned, rubbing my eyes and hoping my mascara wouldn't smudge. Part of me knew that putting make-up on to go on a plane was a bit of a stupid move, but the other part of me remembered the many times I'd been on a plane before.

There was always, and this is a known fact written in the laws of humanity, someone the same age as you on the plane. And it's a competition, also a fact, of who can look the best after twelve hours travelling.

Most of the time boys won. Simply because their hair didn't find it funny to knot itself while it was asleep, and also because they never put any makeup on anyway. Failing that, the girl that wore the whole deal - foundation, eye shadow, liner, lipstick, eyebrow pencil - that won. I'd tried that last year. I was lucky I'd brought remover wipes with me because if I hadn't I would've stepped off the plane with makeup running from my eyes like it was trying to escape.

I really didn't know how they did it. This year I'd gone for the simple make-up. I had to put up a bit of a fight, right?

Shallow, I know. But I didn't make the rules and it was just what happened, always. Oh, and don't forget the hours spent swooning over strangers sitting across from you on the plane. One of the only things that can make it bare-able. The eye candy.

"Brett! Brett!"

"What?!"

"Turn that load of rubbish off we're leaving in a moment."

I emerged from my room and watched as my brother unwillingly did the same. He looked like he was hung-over, and knowing my brother, he probably was. He burped, smacking his chest and then laughing at himself. My mother's face contorted as she continued to get herself ready.

"Attractive." I commented, still observing the twenty year old.

"Aren't I just?"

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part 2

My dad saw the fox running across the road. He turned the wheel a little too hard, and the wet tarmac wasn't very forgiving.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

We hit the curb and the car was flung into a tree. We were all jerked forwards, the suitcases in the back hurled through the air.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Is everyone alright?"

Four.

Five.

A car horn. Car headlights.

A sickening smashing sound erupted before I could comprehend what was happening. Another car had hit our side wards wreck. Our car and the other went crashing sideways into more trees. My brother's body was crushed by the impact, and his ragdoll self was pushed towards me.

My mother's scream was all I heard as I watched her blood cover the front window. As her seatbelt failed to pull her back into safety, her body fly gracefully into the glass. It broke and she lay on the bonnet, face down.

A sharp, demanding pain in my shoulder was hard to ignore, but I didn't attend to it as my sight was blurred with tears. My mother was breathing so heavily she could've inhaled this whole mess.

We were surrounded. Trees on my side, crouching down and holding the doors closed. Another car sandwiching us in on the other side, forced so hard into ours that the dent took up half the car.

My dad let out a whimper, and then more proponent cries escaped his mouth. His shaking hands went out to his wife, drawing her limp body a little more towards him.

I started to cry silently, breathing in and out like everything depended on it. And it did. I didn't turn to look at my brother, or focus on the scene in the front of the car, or the old woman emerging from the other car and frantically knocking on the red smeared windows.

My face contorted, I looked down at my trembling hands. They were covered in dots of blood but I didn't know whose. I joined in with my dad's crying and closed my eyes as I waited for something to happen.

I was waiting for a superhero in a red cape to sweep me and my family off our feet. I was waiting for death. Something.

I didn't care what, I couldn't bear with the situation being so halted.

"The ambulance are on their way." An old, hoarse voice said through the glass that was cracked in every way possible but still standing.