It hurt. A lot. Why did it hurt? I couldn't understand. For the longest time I just lay in there - in what I presumed was a hospital bed- and tried to make sense of the situation. And then it hit me. Like a jolt of lightening. We - my parents and I - had been in accident. We'd been coming back home from a party when we were hit head-on by a super speeding car. I could remember. The pain, the screams of my mother. It all came back in a nightmarish flashback.
I hadn't realized that I'd also started screaming like crazy until a man - presumebly a doctor - came in and said something to me. I couldn't hear him. He looked distraught. He came over and tried to inject me with something, probably anaesthesia for calming me down, but I wouldn't let him. I was fighting too hard, trying to do whatever I could to get rid of the pain. More doctors appeared to find out what was going on. They, along with the first one, managed to hold me down and injected me. I was right. Anaesthesia. I felt the blood drain my face, my hands getting clammy and as if I had no legs. My whole body began to feel numb. I felt nothing, only emptiness. However, to some extent, I was grateful as well. Atleast, it had taken away that hell.
I wanted to cry, only to discover that I couldn't. I wanted to scream, only to discover that I had no energy in me. I was prodded with needles, fed with IV drips. But I didn't care, let them do whatever they want, however they want. I was the living dead. When they were finally satisfied, the doctors left me alone for a while, only to come back later and declare the fateful words that would forever change my life, something even in my state of living dead, I had expected.
'I'm sorry, Jake. Your parents are... dead,' revealed the one whom I had seen first.
I felt nothing. No remorse, no sadness. I figured that the effects anaesthesia still hadn't worn off but I wasn't prepared for the full impact of revelation that I received after it wore off. I felt like a tidal wave had crashed on me. Mum and dad, dead... What was I supposed to do? What was going to happen to me now? Where would I go? I felt like crying, so I did. I felt like screaming and I did.
The next few weeks passed just like that. I would scream, cry, scream some more and reject the food that was offered to me. The truth was too harsh, too terrible for me to accept and there was nothing I could do about it. That all changed, however, when the doctors told me that my Aunt Cassandra was here to get me. She was now officially my legal guardian.
There she was, her face contorted in resentment. It was obvious that she hated the sight of me and she had every right to. Afterall, every time she looked at me she was reminded of her dead sister, my mother. She was dead, yet I was spared.
The next few months were all that. Aunt Cass made it obvious that I was a burden on her and we spoke as little as it was possible for two people living under one roof. At school, my A average dropped to a C averge. I would not have been able to carry even that if it weren't for the best friend I could have hoped for. Miriam. She and I had been friends for almost a year now and she'd always been with me through thick and thin. Thanks to her I was able to carry on more normally than I expected. I's escape to her when I needed to she always welcomed me with open arms, never complaning.
One day, I was at my parents' gravesite, cursing my fate when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was. Miriam. She had flowers in her hands. Sitting beside me, she put them on the grave. I felt tears well up in my eyes. She truly was an amazing friend. She stood up, one hand offering me up too. Her facial expression said that she shared my sorrow.
'Let's go,' she said.
'Yeah. Let's' I replied.
As we left for home, I realized that, no matter what, with her at my side, I'd definitely make it through.
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