Not Just A Pretty Face

Chapter Three

The natural world was still.  There were no birds at this time of night or anything.  Nothing breathed.  The wind had fallen silent.  Until I got out of the car at the site, and the sound of high chatter and sirens filled my ears.  The torrent of sound deafened and confused me.  I swore I could hear my own heart thudding in my ears.  Everything seemed to go in slow motion.

   Memphis pulled the car to a stop on the sidewalk, just behind where the ambulance was positioned.  I walked briskly over to the roped off line, pushing past the group of people who had already assembled there.  I felt glass crunching under my feet.  I looked down.  There was red on it.  It was as if someone had gotten a paintbrush and hastily moved it over as a makeshift canvas.

   There was a police car, and two ambulances around, parked almost like a cage around the wreckage.  To stop people from rubbernecking as they still drove down the active road.  One policeman had been assigned the duty of directing cars around.

   A pair of hands seized me roughly and tried to tug me away.  An Inbetween woman tried to keep me at bay.  “Ma’am, this is a – “

   “I know exactly what this is!” I exclaimed.  “That’s my dad and my…”

   I felt a blackness engulf my mind as I saw it.  Our car, twisted beyond repair and unrecognisable, wrapped around a steel street light.  Paramedics were hovered around the side of it, bent over.  I saw a stretcher, and then when one moved away, I saw…

   “No… No, no!”  I’d never heard such a sound come from my throat.  It sounded like a scream from some horror film.  “Mum!”

   “Ma’am, please remain calm – “

   “I’m not remaining calm, that’s my mother!”

   Her eyes were closed, her face gashed.  There was a pool of, what I realised in horror, was blood.  There was a plastic covering her nose and mouth.  Her neck was placed in a white brace and she was strapped up as paramedics picked her off the floor. 

   I tried to pull away from the woman, but then stronger hands came behind me.  “Don’t go in there,” Memphis warned.

   I felt a lump of tears in my throat, but I was shocked I wasn’t crying.  I couldn’t.  I could hear gasps of shock and some shrieks around me as people watched while the unknown Beautiful was placed into the ambulance, and the first one sped off.

   “Where are you taking her – where is my wife?”

   I really could have cried in relief then.  “Dad!” I exclaimed.

   I saw paramedics moving him on a stretcher, but he was there.  He had lacerations and perhaps a broken bone or two, but he seemed okay.  He was able to lift his head up, but he didn’t see me.  “Where is she?  Where’s Ellie?” he coughed, before a paramedic pushed his head down and said, “Sir, you need to stay still.”

   “Like hell!” dad exclaimed.  “Get off of me, you young watcha-call-it!  Is she alive?!”

   The paramedic gently guided him into the ambulance, with him continuously fighting to be heard.  “Just tell me if she’s alive or dead…!” he begged.  There was a heaving sound in his throat, and I realised he was crying.  My dad… he was crying.  It’s horrible for a child to hear that.  Your parent represents everything strong, secure about your life.  You’re not supposed to hear that.  “My beautiful Ellie…”

   “Sir, we will do everything we can for her,” the paramedic said, closing the door on him before I could get in.

   I waved my hand to the paramedic, and he came over to me, eyeing me up and down.  “That’s my father!” I exclaimed.  He seemed sceptical.  There was still the stereotypical belief that Inbetweens bred Inbetweens, Afflicted the Afflicted, and thus Beautifuls only had Beautifuls.  That was because the belief was, well, if they raise themselves as they do, surely their children will be brought up the same?  “Where are you taking him?”