A Second Chance

I stared out the cold window, slowly huffing against it, watching the small patch of steam that would appear and then disappear. The rain tumbled against the plain glass that made a small wall between me and the outside world. I watched, as raindrops raced each other to the bottom, and then merge into one thick line of water. I stifled a sniff and held back the stupid little tears that wanted to work their way to my cheeks, i needed to be strong, for my dad, it was his choice and i wanted him to be happy, if that meant giving everything i knew up here then so be it.

I had grown up there since i was born, i used to play with my little sister when i was younger, much younger, we used to play tag around the willow tree near the river at the bottom of our garden. I loved that tree, i used to climb way up high, and sometimes if i were brave enough i would climb to the top and watch our silly little world go by, it was nice, i never wanted to leave once i got up there, it was like a second home. My mum died when she gave birth to Izabel, my little sister, and at the time i didn't actually know that my mum died, until i went to the funeral, her long rainy funeral. We stood there in the rain looking down onto her grave, her cold, lifeless grave, and then my mind told me that it was her fault, it was Izabel's fault that she was dead, and i still believe that now.

I came back out of the small flash back and came back to the real world, the world of pain, suffering and loss. I took my eyes away from the window and looked at the empty room i was sitting in. My new room. Cold and bare, like i was, at least it was something to work on i guess, something for me to get my head around that i was now in a new country, new place, new school, and it all starts tomorrow, first day of school. The day from hell, thats what it will be, the new girl, all the way from Canada, lets pick on her because she's different, yeah, I've heard the stories, the magazine stories, the ones that are partly true but then also twisted up to make life more interesting, bullying, it will start with me, i can tell when something like this is going to happen, i jut know, from a young age i would get these silly little dreams for feelings that something bad was going to happen, i knew my mum was going to die, i didn't know how, i just did, i would have this dream over and over again in my head, of her getting on a train and leaving me behind. I knew Izabel was going to die, because at the age of 9 i had the same dream, just with her taking my mums place.

Izabel died from a car accident, she ran out infront of the car to see a friend, and the car was just going too fast, i watched in horror as she was flung over the top of the car at full speed, her tiny little body crushed to one side and doing multiple back flips and spins, in slow motion, it would have looked like a ballerina, so graceful and pretty with the swooping movements of her hands and legs, but once sped up, it was a whole different matter, she skidded to the floor and the car stopped instantly, people rushing out of it. I just stood there, mouth open, speechless. I saw this coming, i knew it was going to happen as soon as she ran across the road. Why didn't i do anything? Was i meant to do anything? These questions held themselves in my mind at that moment, and still hang there today. Now i wish i could of done something, i wish i could have done something, instead of just standing there like the idiot i was, i know i was only young, and i still have nightmares about that day, but i could of done something, now looking back on it, but there is nothing i can do now, its all in the past, maybe it was her karma getting back at her for killing my mum, would that mean that karma would come round to finish me off? For not helping my sister in need? The questions kept popping up in my head as i carried on staring out the window. What if? The same ringing of the questions, i closed my eyes and let the tears run down my face, i couldn't hold them back anymore, i didn't want to hold them back anymore, i wanted to go home, i needed to go home, but of course, it was too late now, too late for anything, im always too late.

I was woken up by the sound of the alarm crying at me, with its loud and continuous bleeping. I swung my hand over to the stop button and for a second, i thought i was back home, in my bed, in Canada, that this had all just been a bad dream waiting for me to wake up. But no, this was all too real for me to take in, some more tears ran down my face and i wiped them away. I didn't want my dad seeing me like this, for all he knew was that i was happy to move to stupid England, with all their tea and posh accents. I sniffed and looked at the time, 6:47, i sniffed again, far too early for my liking, and the uniform i would have to wear was just distrusting, i have never needed to wear a school uniform, because my country is cool like that. It was a 'blazer' or what every they call it, with a blue and white striped tie, i had to wear a skirt because i was a girl and had no say in the matter, black skirt of course, and long white socks, with black shoes, how i hated the colour black, it was always so depressing. You wear black to funerals not to school, unless school is your funeral, then it kind of makes sense in a way.