Taken From The Nest

Chapter I

I steadily make my way down the narrow hallway, making sure not to step on the floorboards that I know will creak. Not making a sound, even if I trip over one of Isla's fabric dolls. The dim lights overhead outline my faint shadow that crept quietly. I've lived in this house long enough to know everything about it: which bedroom is the coldest or which part of the floor isn't hammered down correctly. Every time I step through the front door after work, I feel massive relief. This is my home, and I will never leave it.
I live on the edge of Lynchburg, Virginia. Pretty much my whole life I've lived in a small compact neighborhood with my parents until I got married. My husband Bryan and I loved the vintage charm the houses gave off, so we moved in a few blocks away. We both wanted a child, Bryan more than me. Sooner than we expected, I became pregnant with Isla.
As I reach the end of the hall, I step into her toy-cluttered room. I can make out Isla's sleeping figure on her bed, her small chest rising and falling so peacefully. I would hate to disturb her, just watching her at rest makes me feel serene. Smiling gently, I decide to give her a couple more minutes before I wake her for school. I silently creep towards the small rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. Every night ever since Isla was born, I would have her sit in my lap so I could read her a story.
Lately, her four-year-old body is becoming too big.
'Only happy memories are shared in this household', I say to her often. But the bad memories still come back to haunt me. I've done my best to avoid Isla when I flashback to the night, the night that changed both of our lives forever. I don't know what I would do if she saw me as broken instead of strong.

Bryan was driving the car down the long highway, being careful of the other drivers around us. The clouds in the sky turn from white to a foreboding grey as the minutes go by. The sun was slowly making an entrance into the sky. Isla was sleeping soundly in my arms while I looked out the window at the blurry colors of the crop fields. I was starting to drift off, but I knew I couldn't fall asleep: Isla was too feeble, too precious.
As we neared our neighborhood, it began to rain, the droplets of water sparkled against the windows as we drove on. The sun was now blocked out by the storm clouds, and our only dependable light source came from the headlights of our blue SUV. At this point I was wide awake, my full attention on the road ahead. Bryan was carefully weaving in between the cars. Without speaking, we both knew this storm would be bad, to where the roads would flood. Over the loud rain, I can make out his voice silently iterating,
"Please don't hydroplane, please don't hydroplane."
I hugged Isla close to me, making sure the majority of her was covered by the cotton blanket that was given to us by the hospital. Outside the thunder was becoming louder by the second, and from my arms I faintly hear Isla's small cry. I removed the blanket from around her face to soothe her, though it was probably better to keep her completely covered to block her from the noise.
As I caress Isla's head, Bryan curses from the other side of the car.
"What's wrong?" I ask, my breath quickening. I never thought the drive home with a baby would be this stressful.
"Sorry Abigail. I didn't mean to scare you," he apologizes softly. He nodded his head at the drivers side window and I lean closer to get a better look. A black coupe was two lanes away from us. I couldn't get a clear view of the driver's facial expressions, but for all I could tell, he was looking to change lanes. I frowned, and turned to face the front windshield.
"I'm being paranoid. It's probably because I'm tired," I say, rubbing my temples.
"It's fine, I just don't want him to get too close. The rain on the road could push the car towards us," he mutters, as if answering my thoughts. My heart rate started to speed up as I saw the man move one lane closer through the side mirror. Only about seven feet apart.
The roads become slick very easily when it rains, resulting in lots of car wrecks last spring.
"We could slow down a bit," I add while gently putting a hand on Bryan's shoulder for support. "There is no one else on the road, and he probably needs to be in our lane."
He set his hand overtop mine lovingly before returning it to the wheel. "No use. The rain on the road is too slick for us to slow down fast enough. We just have to hope he isn't an idiot."
I become tense as the other driver moves directly next to us. Bryan's hands tense around the wheel and his knuckles turn white. I look down at Isla for the millionth time to check on her. By now she was beginning to relax in the cotton's warmth once again. I look up and notice the outline of an intersection up ahead. The light immediately flickers from green to yellow.
A cold chill went down my spine as my eyes settled on the colorful lights up ahead, all blurring together through the window acting as a horrible filter.
Something doesn't feel right.
"Bryan, start to slow down the car. Our turn is up ahead, and it looks like we're gonna have to stop." I say warningly. My eyes stay glued to the intersection up ahead. Out of the corner of my eye I see him nod as he eases his foot onto the brake. We began to slow as the stoplight comes into focus. I glance up at the rearview mirror to look for the other car, only to find it directly behind us.
"Honey," I say with concern. "The man is driving behind us now." I look up at the mirror again. Immediately I get hit with a wave of fear and confusion when I see our cars get closer.
"He doesn't look like he's going to stop."
Bryan frantically looks into his side rear view mirror before looking back to the road. The intersection is about eight hundred feet away now.
"I'm switching lanes." I hear Bryan say tensely. He veered the car to the right into the last lane. We eventually loose sight of the coupe, the man slowing as we speed away. Soon enough we reach the intersection. We were so close to home, I could see the batch of houses in the distance. I feel a wave of relief wash over me.
But then we weren't.
We sat at the red light, waiting for it to turn green so we could finally bring Isla home for the first time. Through the rearview mirror I couldn't see the other car. I stare for a few more seconds, as if expecting a unicorn to show up. The hood of our car lights up emerald green, and I reach towards Bryan to get his attention. Before I get the chance, I catch a glimpse of the other car, going full speed in our lane.
"BRYAN! MOVE THE CAR!" I yell. He began to look at the stoplight, but then he looked behind us. In a moment of panic he lost all logical thought and stepped on the gas. He sharply turned the car to the left, hoping to veer out of the way in time.
Do you know that feeling when you know something is going to happen but you still experience the shock and intense emotions of the event?
I guess you could say I had no doubt we were going to be hit.
I wrap Isla in my jacket, and hold her tighter than what would be considered safe. She had quit crying, even after I was shrieking at Bryan. I squeezed my eyes shut so forcefully that they began to hurt. I muttered a prayer over and over until I couldn't speak anymore.
Dear God please hope we don't hit the car.
Dear God please keep us safe.
Dear God, help.
Dear God.
Then came the first impact.
You heard me.
The first impact.
I hear a few of the windows break into a million shards.
I haven't opened my eyes yet. I feel the impact of the airbags against me, so fast I don't even feel the throbbing pain in my body at first. Without looking, I could tell that the car would be crushed in and we would be caked with glass. I could feel a warm liquid traveling down my face. It slid down my forehead and onto my lips. A metallic taste invaded my mouth. Blood.
Besides the silence, I heard the pounding of the rain against the road and my short, ragged breaths. My forehead stung with pain, as if someone had thrown a brick at my skull. I wanted to keep my eyes closed forever. I wanted to imagine we were never hit- that I had just fallen asleep and it was all just a terrifying nightmare.
But nothing could be more real than the taste of blood.
Before I could even consider whether my family was safe, the car suddenly lurched over, rolling onto the side of the road. The unexpected second hit frightened me so bad I threw my head backwards and hit something hard. I blacked out for a couple seconds, but I could hear more glass shattering and the sound of metal being crushed in. I scream, shutting my eyes once I could see again, my arms still gripping onto Isla for her life.
I waited until all noise had stopped, the only sound coming from the clouds rumbling above.
Then I made the horrendous mistake of opening my eyes.
Now that I think back, I should've kept them shut to avoid the brutal scene. I should have waited until the police and paramedics arrived. They would've broken the news to me.
They would've braced me from seeing him.
I open my eyes.
I had to blink a few times before I could make out details. I place a hand on my throbbing forehead, and suck in my breath when I see it come back burgundy red. Until now, I noticed that I had been crying. All l I could taste were salty tears as if I had swallowed a mouthful of the ocean. I look around. The car was on its side, with the passenger side closest to the ground.
I unbuckle my seatbelt. Holding Isla closely to my chest, I fall a few inches onto the glass shards that were scattered all over the car. Some of the shards punctured my skin, causing me to cry out in pain, but no sound came out. Pain had taken away my voice, and almost all of my breath. I crawl through what used to be the front windshield and make my way onto the wet road. The rain pelted down on my body and the thunder was constantly booming above like drums in a marching band.
I stood up, and immediately felt an excruciating pain in my left hip. I lifted up my shirt, careful not to move my body that much. A bruise the size of a baseball was forming on my hip, the usual shades of purple mixed with mauve and blue. I winced as soon as I saw it.
Then I remembered: Isla was still nuzzled in my jacket.
I quickly unwrapped her from the blanket cocoon that I had stupidly left on the ground.
She was still warm and breathing despite her blanket being drenched.
The black coupe was now motionless on the other side of the road. The hood and the fender were completely crushed. The driver was sitting on the road with his back against the car, holding a jacket over his head that looked like it wasn't made to be wet. He was frantically talking to someone on the phone, 911 I hope.
I see another vehicle, this one doesn't even resemble a pickup anymore: the side was crushed in so badly that I could see the driver compressed in between the airbag and the car door. Still holding Isla, I make my way towards the truck to help. But then I remember:
Bryan hasn't left the car yet.
I spin around in such fear that I almost drop Isla onto the road again. Trying my best with my wounds and my newborn in arm, I limp over to our car.
Our car was on its side, so Bryan's seat was above the ground by a few feet. I walk to the front of the windshield and peer in.
I shriek in horror and fall to my knees, the impact so hard it sends a shock of pain up my legs. The pain doesn't bother me. A fresh waterfall of tears flow down my face, I hold Isla's small body in my arms and I don't plan on letting go.
There in the car was Bryan.
His lifeless body leaning to the side so unnaturally it makes me nauseous just thinking about it.
The car door was crushed in, making his seat way too small to fit his figure. There were so many shards of glass embedded in his forehead, chest, and arms. Blood streaks from so many places it was hard to count. He mainly bled out from his torso, the blood pooling on the road and staining it red. A thick slice of glass somehow stabbed him square in the chest. Bryan's neck looked as if it had snapped, his head lolling to the side in a distorted manner.
And the worst part was his eyes.
They were still open, staring right through me.
As if he were saying,
"You were too late to save me."

I don't remember how long I sat there letting the rain soak through my clothes, and shortly passing out from hypothermia.
I don't remember being taken to the hospital.
I don't remember the doctors taking Isla away.
And I try not to remember when I saw my husband at the viewing.

I snapped back to reality.
I sat in the rocking chair, the creaking noise becoming louder as I am brought into the real world. My arms were tightly wrapped around my stomach, like they were when I held Isla in the car that night. My feet were planted firmly on the ground. Lights from the window above Isla's bed produced beams of sunlight that danced across the room, highlighting every detail. The dust that floated around became visible when it entered the light, floating freely.
That daydream was much more vivid than before.
I give a ragged sigh, and glance around the room to clear my mind. Two birds sat outside the window, a pair of small robins. Their nest was perched on a branch that came very close to the window. If you pressed your face close enough, you could see three eggs of the most beautiful shade of blue. Isla loved the birds. Every afternoon after school she would go outside while the adult robins left to find food. I would lift her up so she could check on the eggs. She called them her little bird family.
The smaller of the two robins was the female, which Isla says reminds her of me. The mother would always be close to her eggs when people passed by on the sidewalk, as if protecting her babies from danger.
That's what moms do, Isla had said on Mother's Day the previous year.
I wish Bryan was here to see them. Then he could enjoy the bird family with us. At least he would be happy Isla had not died.
I always try not to think about it. Despite the wreck being four years ago, the nightmares still come back as if it had happened yesterday.
I inhaled slowly and started to relax.
"Mommy?"
Slowly I turn to look at my daughter, now sitting up in her bed and yawning.
Quickly I replaced my frown with a smile and went to pick her up. Holding her had become more difficult; the crash had shattered my left hip after the second car hit us and flipped our car. On the night of the wreck, I hadn't even noticed that my hip was broken. I was able to walk two weeks after the surgery, and I was able to do chores around the house for four weeks. Unfortunately, the nurse that took care of me at the hospital told me I won't be able to move as good again.
I planted a kiss on Isla's head and smoothed out her brown hair. "Good morning sweetie, how did you sleep?"
"Good," she said sleepily. I set her down on her bed, and she pulled the comforter back over her small figure. I laughed softly, remembering when I did the same thing in the past. Unlike me, she wasn't an early bird.
"Isla, baby, we have to wake up. It's time to get ready for school!"
She turned towards me to where I could see her face, her eyes were now void of all sleepiness. she crossed her arms and gave me a pouty lip. "But I don't wanna go to P-School! I wanna stay here and play!"
"But you can play at school, remember?" I sighed with laughter. "You can play outside and inside during playtime."
"But I don't like the toys they have there!" Isla whined. "I like mine!"
What a great way to start the morning, I thought sarcastically. "Well, you can bring one of your own, but only one."
Her face lit up. "Thank you Mommy!"
She jumped out of bed, dragging her bedsheets with her as she slid off the plush mattress. She stepped over piles of toys and books that were strewn all over the carpet and scanned her surroundings. Her eyes fixated on a mountain of her stuffed animals, and a small smile formed on her face. Isla walked over to it and picked up her Rainbow Brite doll, the one gifted to her by Bryan's mother on her first birthday.
"I want to bring her," she said smiling, carefully holding the doll in her hands. I smiled warmly, glad that she treasured the doll so much.
"That's fine, just make sure you put it in your backpack after playtime."
"Okay."
I glanced at the small alarm clock on the bedside table, noticing that it was five till nine. Rushing to her closet, I pulled out a pale-rose colored sweater and a black velvet skirt.
"C'mon Isla!" I strained. "We have to get to school now."