My One Shots

She Was Just A Girl.

 “She was just a girl.” Those words have become my definition, the summary of my life and all it will ever be. No one will remember the days I spent playing freeze tag with them on the playground of West Northland laughing and giggling until the bell sounded. No one will remember my first A+ paper describing the best woman in the world, Mommy. My parents will smile at the thought that I wanted to be a doctor just like my hero, Daddy. Then they will cry over me never becoming one. Worst of all no one will remember the time that I was just a happy normal living girl without saying those words with pity.

May 16th, 2010: Even the sun was yawning from how early in the day it was but down stairs the sounds of rattling dishes and patter of running water echoed on the cold wood floors. I was not supposed to be up yet but I could not resist. I had to go down stairs and help with Sunday morning breakfast for Mom. Dad was always awake at this time on his day off, I never remember him playing ‘hooky’ and sleeping in on a Sunday he had off. “Can I help?” I peeked around the corner waiting for him to tell me to go back to sleep but he never did. Instead he replied “Grab your apron, you arrived just in time Miss Princess Chief! “ in the same voice that scared away the monsters under the bed, that laughed too loud during Snow-White making the seventh dwarf fall off stage and sang me lullabies that I will never forget. It was the same menu as always: pancakes, burnt bacon, and iced tea but each time he bragged “She will never guess her surprise!” I remember once when I questioned if we should put “Mommy in time out for breaking the house rule of no food in bed”. He just laughed saying “Sweetie one day, you’ll find a prince and you’ll forget how to speak or how to breathe. You’ll want to spend it all with him till your thoughts are just pure happiness and then one day I’ll take a walk with you in front of all the people who love you and he’ll be your official king. He’ll make you all the breakfast in bed you could ever want. You’ll be the queen who sets the rules to make or break and he will fight for your every dream.” Everything was perfection in that moment. Mommy was the Queen and Daddy was her King, and I was their princess.

Just as every Sunday morning Mommy sang along to her favorite song. Her melody filled the air softly with the words “Someday the world will see the light” just as the Green Bug swerved toward us. I will never forget her breath taking gasp and loud scream that filled our car before the fatal moments. Daddy’s first reaction was to turn the wheel as fast as he could to miss the oncoming car. That was the mistake no one saw coming. It was the mistake that was masked as a monster with 18 wheels. The monster was skidding on slick payment brawling toward our minivan at an unbelievable pace. The sounds of the brakes failing, metal bending and bulging, along with glass falling to unforgiving asphalt filled our Sunday morning car ride until I blocked them all out. I was paralyzed with fear; tears were frozen behind my eyes as I hung upside down. The car began to sway, inching closer to the edge of the I78 overpass.

 The glass had fallen, the metal had cooled and the fire extinguished however the scene was far from clam. Cops photographed the crumbled up cars that looked like nothing a movie maker could even dream of. Reporters stood among the on lookers, scavenging for the most interesting story they could uncover-although their attempts were wasted as priceless footage of a sixteen year old girl stumbling out of her unscathed car with her phone still in hand was recorded live nearly a half hour before. Headlines ran across the televisions in bold letters “Texting while Driving is to blame in a fatal accident this morning, stay tuned for more info.”

Voices drew me back to reality. “Code White, entering east drop off” they yelled across the noisy floor. Hands quickly reached out toward me grabbing and poking at me, treating me worse than my cousin, Jake, used to treat my Barbie’s. I remained in shock until the words “"Code Blue, Code Blue. Trauma, 213” cleared my head. I remember hearing those words once before, probably on some hospital show Mom watched; however, the more I searched for the meaning the faster everything faded to blackness. Last words I remember were “We’re taking her up now for surgery”.

I awoke to the chatter of two gossiping nurses above me. Both of them were completely oblivious to the fact I was gaining consciousness as they spoke. “The man that came in with them was lucky compared to this girl; at least he’s at peace.” One nurse spoke as I struggled to open my eyes. The other nurse with a jersey accent added “I just feel for the parents and Nick when he has to explain about her condition.” For the first time I realized my parents were okay. Quickly a wave of calmness fell over me, however it was short lived when I realized I was a prisoner in my body.

 Every scream that should have been ripping from inside of me remained faint on the tip of my tongue, every twitch and pull of attempts to move were failures while nothing I did was enough to awake my body to life. It was as if I was dreaming, a horrid, detestable, atrocious nightmare that nothing could stir me from. I was imprisoned.

May 14th, 2016: I have lived at the mercy of ventilators and heart monitors for the past six years. Not once has she visited me. By “she” I mean the reason I am in this confinement. My mom barely has the will to speak anymore. At first she was with me every moment of everyday, crying, laughing and filling me in on what I was missing. Each day she would read to me full novels at a time but now she is lucky to say more than 5 words a day. My Dad had to take on extra shifts after our insurance dropped the “hopeless case” I had become.

Tomorrow is the day. The day I will be set free. I cannot say I am not terrified while I am still hopeful. I just wish I could have found the way to vocalize the thoughts in my head to the girl who chose a few words on a screen over me, over her, over the safety of everyone that day. At first I was mad, frankly more than mad. I was furious, hurt and engulfed in rage toward her. While now, I realize everyday she wakes up knowing lives hang over her head and that she will never cease the grief and remorse of that Sunday morning. I will be free tomorrow while she will remain a prisoner walking among the free for the rest of her life.