Dumb Luck

I can still remember my parents a bit, even though it’s been years sense I last saw them. They were great, they really were; best parents a girl could ask for. Mom stayed home and watched after Ronnie and me, Dad worked in an office from 9 to 5; we were the picture perfect family, you know? Mom made dinner every night, we all watched television together, Ronnie and I had our own beds to sleep in…everything was great. I woke up every single day knowing who I loved, and who loved me right back. It was perfect. Then it ended.

It happened when I was 8, and I don’t remember much of it. I remember Dad taking us all out for a fancy dinner on New Year’s Eve. We all got dressed up in our finest, piled into that mint green Caddy, and zoomed out to have a good time. Dad put in some old music, and he and Mom started singing along. Ronnie fell asleep before we got far, and I didn’t wake her up. She was only a little over a year, so she cried a lot; sleep meant she was quiet for a while.

We got to the restaurant okay, and pigged out on food. We didn’t go out to eat much, but when we did, we ate big. That’s what people around where I grew up did. The restaurant was real pretty at night, with all the lights on and all the windows dark. They had an endless supply of fancy food and drinks and such; Ronnie and I almost cried when it was time to leave! Well, I almost cried; Ronnie had been crying sense we got to the restaurant. That’s what she was good at, crying. Mom said she was in pain, because her first teeth were starting to come in, and that’s why she was crying all the time. She and Dad both looked real happy about that, but neither I nor Ronnie cared about why she was in pain. She was annoying, and that’s all my 8 year old mind could process.

We were on our way back home when things starting getting…bad. Ronnie’s crying got louder, so I started yelling and fussing at her to shut up. I kept screaming at Mom and Dad to make her shut up, but they couldn’t do anything about it. Mom had drank a few cups of wine at the restaurant, so she fell asleep pretty quick. Dad looked really tired too, but I can’t remember whether he had anything to drink or not. It was a few minutes before 12; of course he would be tired.

I was feeling a little sleepy too, but I didn’t allow myself to fall asleep. At that age, all I had were nightmares. If I had a nightmare, I would start screaming in my sleep, and that would scare Dad and maybe make him wreck. As it turned out, sleeping would have been better for me.

I didn’t notice him fall asleep until it was too late. I felt the car slam into something real hard, hard enough to throw me out of my seat. Mom and Dad were wearing seat belts, but I wasn’t; Ronnie was sitting in my lap as I tried to put her to sleep. Back then, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. As I hit the roof of the car and felt Ronnie get thrown from my arms, I regretting not wearing it.

The police report was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. Dad had fallen asleep and hit a vacant, parked car. Ronnie was thrown through the shattered windshield as the car rolled down an embankment, with Mom and Dad and me inside. I got thrown out at some point, before the car hit the bottom. Apparently, that’s what saved my life.

When Ronnie got thrown out, she hit the pavement and skidded about 2 feet. She cracked her skull open and rubbed most of her skin off. She was only a year and a couple months old. Dad snapped his neck as the car rolled down the embankment. Mom got a bunch of cuts from the shattered glass; she died from loss of blood. The way the car crashed acted as a kind of tourniquet, which slowed her bleeding a great deal. It took 2 hours before someone  noticed the car and called 911. When the paramedics cut her out of the car, her blood was no longer controlled by a tourniquet, so she bleed out in a matter of 2 or 3 minutes. I suffered a concussion, a broken leg, and a few bruises and scratches. I lost my family, all in one night. Everyone I had ever cared about, everyone that had ever cared about me…gone. From that moment on, I had no life.

Social Services sent me to a foster family, which was fine for a while. There were 2 other kids, both girls, that lived there too. No “dad”, but there was a “mom”, and she was pretty nice. She worked nights, but I didn’t know were, and the other girls wouldn’t tell me. I kind of figured it out now, and I’m glad they let me be ignorant.

I was so messed up after losing my family, I could barely function. I wouldn’t eat, sleep, or bathe. I just sat on the floor, in the room I shared with the other girls, and thought. I thought about all the bad stuff in life, and all the good stuff. I thought about blood, and death, and murder, and fire. I thought about knives and guns and people crying. I thought about everything, but never once did I think about my family. Never once did I cry.

The “mom” couldn’t stand it anymore; I was simply too much to handle. She was afraid of letting me taint the other children. That’s what I heard her telling the Social Services lady, before they took me away and put me in another foster home.

I don’t remember where all I have been; there’s no point in trying to think about it. I have been in great foster homes, with good food and happy people. I have been in horrible homes, with dirty old men and disgusting, illegal chores. I have been raped, beat, starved, and scared. I have been through hell twice, and I’m in the line to go it again. That’s how life works.

There’s no such thing as meaning or order; everything’s just dumb luck. I got lucky, surviving that car crash. I get lucky every day that I don’t get killed. Am I happy? No. Do I deserve what happens to me? No. There’s no point in believing that everything will be okay eventually, because it won’t be. I have been through 15 years of hell, and life hasn’t been great in 7 years. There’s no point in deluding myself into thinking that someone up in No Man’s Land is watching out for me, or that I’m getting mysterious help from an Unnamed Source. None