The Silent Rider

Chapter 2

The ride home from the hospital was a silent affair. My parents didn't attempt conversation, a relief that allowed me to be alone with my thoughts. When we arrived, the struggle to leave the car felt like an uphill battle. My stupid leg brace refused to let me bend my knee properly, leaving me in a frustrating dance of attempts.

Eventually, my mother came to my aid, helping me out of our pick-up truck. As I stood in our driveway, I finally let myself look around. Our home sat on a vast ranch, spanning about a hundred acres. The iconic red barn with its six stalls came into view; three of those horses were mine. The farmhouse, a charming 3-bedroom, 3-bath with a snug kitchen and a sprawling living room, stood proudly. My room, a loft in the house, held a special place in my heart.

But my gaze drifted to the battered trailer and the mangled truck nearby. Tears began streaming down my face uncontrollably. My father noticed, and before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, his voice rising.

"She'd still be here if you could have kept your mouth shut! I bet that's why she crashed because you were distracting her. Tell me I'm wrong."

My mother, sensing the tension, intervened, squeezing my shoulder and defending me. "We don't know how the accident happened. Kimberly was the one driving, not Ashlyn. You can't blame her."

She pulled me away, whispering, "Just ignore him. He just misses her"

My sister and I had different interests. While my father and Kimberly were passionate about rodeo, I leaned towards English sports. My mom favored dressage but supported my showjumping. My father's disapproval lingered, claiming I wouldn't build a career jumping over poles on a fancy horse. Kimberly, though, supported me, despite her dislike for the uniforms and expensive horses.

Reaching home, I immediately headed for the stairs. But the reality of my situation struck; the leg brace made climbing impossible. In a moment of impulsive foolishness, I hopped up the stairs on one foot, draining my energy entirely. The prospect of descending seemed impossible now.

Entering my room—decorated in black and gray with vibrant splashes of color—I staggered to my bed and collapsed. I lay there, the weight of my recent experiences pressing down. Tomorrow would mark the first day back at school, and the absence of my sister loomed over me.