Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(edited)
____ B L A K E
Soft golden sunlight danced along my skin as I peered out the backseat window, awestruck by the white sand and colourful umbrellas dotting the beach. The gentle crash of waves, alongside the shrill tones of laughter and chatter, could be heard in the distance, filling my chest with an inexplicable joy.
This was the last time I saw my parents. My father had been driving, with my mother sitting in the passenger seat. Considering how I was only ten at the time, I was forced to sit in the backseat, my favourite teddy bear hugged to my chest. We had just moved to the coast—had barely even settled into our new home—before disaster struck.
We had driven into town. It was a busy Saturday morning. There were people everywhere; on the beach, jogging along the sidewalks, ducking in and out of stores, and driving along the roads. We had been heading to the shopping mall, crossing through an intersection when a car came out of nowhere. I remember screaming as I watched the maroon commodore smash into us. The force sent our car rolling, the entire right side caved in. There was glass everywhere, followed by the metallic scent of blood and car fumes.
The memory becomes fuzzier with each year but there was one thing I could never forget. It was burned into my brain, haunting my every dream.
When I composed myself, I looked to see if my parents were alright, only to find that they were far from fine. Their faces were covered in blood, their skin scattered with tiny cuts. They were unconscious and slumped over, the life completely sucked from their bodies. I remember hoping, praying, that they were just asleep and not dead. I really wanted to believe that we would be okay, that we would all make it out of the crash alive.
I called their names, tears streaking my cheeks. Eventually, people started pulling at the wreckage, desperately working to free me from my steel prison. Eventually, they managed to pry the door off and lift me out.
After that, I was carried away by a man. He appeared to be some sort of police officer. He was rather slim, cleanly shaven with piercing blue eyes and greying hair. I remember clinging to him, staining his shirt with my tears as he reassured me, saying that everything was going to be okay. I was then put on a stretcher and wheeled into the back of an ambulance. They took me to hospital where I was diagnosed with multiple broken ribs and a severe concussion. I was also treated for deep laceration's on my arms and legs.
It was all a blur after that. The only thing I really remember was policemen showing up at the hospital a few days later. They had declared that my parents had perished in the crash. With no other living relatives, I was shipped off to St. AndrewsOrphanage in Detroit where I remained for the rest of my teenage years.
