Across the Globe [COMPLETE]

Stop The World, What?! PART 2

Samantha

I’m brain-dead. There’s no more worst case scenarios I can run through, no more alternative stories running through my head. I abruptly crash into the realisation that this is real life, that this is my story, this is real... And it feels so much worse than anything I ever imagined.

“I panicked,” says mum, bringing my attention back to the present, “I called every hospital, every single person I knew, and even the police. But no one knew anything. They were the longest and most agonizing hours of my life…. My phone finally rang at midday, it was the police.”

A shiver runs down my spine and my body feels freezing cold. My fingers are numb, my brain is numb. My heart aches and it feels like someone is trying to squeeze all the air out of my lungs.

“They told me Morris had been in an accident, and his car was found on the side of the road two hours North of our home. I think he wanted to take you up to his hometown, in Rotorua.” Mum takes another big breath, and I try to do the same, but no air seems to be enough. My insides feel like ice, but still I feel sweat dripping down my neck. “I’m so sorry darling, he passed away before he could even get to the hospital.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces. I had known, I had always known. But I realise now that there was this teeny tiny piece of my heart that had always held on tight to the hope that maybe, just maybe... dad was still alive. And it feels like that tiny piece of hope was all that was holding my heart together. As mum’s words hit me in the chest, that hope just vanishes, and all the pieces fall apart. I clutch my chest with one hand, hoping I can somehow keep the pieces from falling all the way to my feet. 

But I can’t.

I close my hand into a fist and take a shaky breath in.

“And you,” says mum as she caresses my cheek, “you were unscratched. The paramedics called it a miracle.”

I release all the air from my lungs, and I order them to keep working, even if just for a little bit longer.

My mind is running a million miles an hour while mum’s words sink in. After we finish talking, I leave the lounge and I hide in my bedroom. I need some space for myself. 

All those years just trying to imagine who dad was, where I came from, what my father might have been like... And now I have all the answers laid in front of me, and I feel like I have so many more questions than ever. 

I feel lost. And scared.

My name is not even my name. Who am I?

I’m not stupid, I always knew there was something in my heritage that was completly… foreign. I knew since I was a little girl that I was different, all the other kids made me fully aware of this every time they teased me for the colour of my skin, the shape of my nose, and the roughness of my hair. I always wished I looked more like mum, who was just another drop of water among the crowds. 

I have always been like oil, unable to mix myself into this water-made-world. My chest still hurts, even if I’ve managed to keep the panic demons far enough for them not to take over. 

I’m not dying, I remind myself. I’m okay. I’m accountable for my own breathing. I open the fists I didn’t know I was squeezing, and stare at the half moons drawn deep into my palms. I run a thumb through the sore spots while mindfully breathing in and out until my chest is fully back under my control.

Being alone here, the weight of the information crushing me, I realise there’s only one thing I can do to make it better.

I grab my phone and call the first number on the speed dial.