Marching in the Dark

Chapter One

Waking to find out that you’re blind it not a fun experience.

I opened my eyes to find that it made no difference; the world was still pitch black. It was something that I wasn’t used to. Complete darkness is not something that is easily come by, even when you live in a smaller town. I say smaller, of course, because I wouldn’t call Oxford a small town; we have a good 18000 residents.

But here, there was no light at all, which didn’t make any sense because I could hear the traffic outside, so I should at least be able to see their headlights, but there was nothing.

I ran my hands along the bed I was lying on. It was soft, but not my bed. The blanket was too thin, and not soft enough, plus I wasn’t lying flat on my back, but rather propped up. My hands reached the rails around the bed, and I knew where I was; the hospital. I tried to remember what had happened to get me here.

I remembered District, and being so proud to have made first chair. I shouldn’t have been; I’d made first before. But it was always such an amazing thing to do, to discover that you’re the best flute player in an area. Being only 16 and a junior in high school, it made me extremely proud.

I remembered being in Fate’s mom’s van, on our way home. I’d been reading, like I was always reading, and then Harmony asked for the book, and when I was giving it to her…

I remembered, quite suddenly, the crash. That was what had happened, there was a crash. I’d heard the impact, felt that jerk forward—or, for me, backward, because I was turned around—and then nothing. Nothing but a brief panic-inducing blackness followed by unconsciousness. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? I’d hit my head. Maybe I had a concussion. They could fix that. I’d seen it on TV; it would be no problem. I would be fine.

But why was it dark?

“Melody?”

My head jerked up, but I couldn’t find the source of the voice in the darkness. It wasn’t familiar, a young woman’s voice, probably a nurse. She confirmed my suspicions when she said, “The doctor will be here to see you in a minute. Your parents are on their way in.”

A few minutes later, I heard a couple sets of hurried footsteps, and then my parents were there. We’d never been a big hugging family, but I found myself unable to breathe as two sets of arms wrapped around me.

“Can’t… breathe…” I said, pushing them back.

“Hello? Melody Goldman?” came a voice from the darkness. “I’m Dr. Keel. I need to talk to you and your parents.”

My parents stood on either side of me, holding both of my hands, as Dr. Keel went on in big words that made no sense about what was wrong with me. All I understood was something about my brain.

“In English, doctor,” my father said from my left side.

“The part of her brain that processes her sight was damaged in the car crash. Her eyes still work, but her brain can no longer process the information.”

“You’re telling me she’s blind?” my mother said from my right, her voice high and incredulous.

“Yes, in short, she is blind. There is nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

It suddenly made sense. The darkness, the tremendous headache that I’d just noticed. I had brain damage. I was blind. I would never see again. I suddenly realized what this would mean for my day-to-day life.

I wouldn’t be able to read. I wouldn’t be able to use my laptop. And what about school? I wouldn’t be able to read the textbooks, and copying notes would be pointless because how would I study them later? And they probably wouldn’t be that legible anyways.