Living Again~ One

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I'm looking through the car window at the strikingly beautiful scenery. There are trees everywhere. Tall, lush trees. As our vehicle is speeding past the forest, I can see an ever-changing kaleidoscope of greens and browns. Everything around me is magnificent. The leaves on the trees are dancing in the breeze and I can faintly hear water crashing onto rocks.

My parents and I are on a trip. Just a few kilometres away is the amazing waterfall I've always wanted to visit, so that's where we're headed. We haven't even reached the destination yet and I'm already having the best time ever. We're singing along to the radio and munching on unhealthy snacks. I have a sweet, light-hearted mom and a funny yet protective dad. Even though I have no siblings, I'm perfectly happy with my little family because I have Pixie, my adorable toy poodle, to give me company.

We're driving fast, eager to meet our destination. The fog is making it hard to see the road clearly, but my dad is managing well. I'm in perfect bliss as I laugh at my dad's lame attempts at humour and stroke Pixie's snowy white fur. That's when I hear the truck behind us honking urgently. Before I can even turn around to see what the problem is, our car smashes into a tree with so much force that I jump off my seat and my body bounces forward. After this, everything is vague. I hear my mother's painful shriek and my dad cries out her name in agony. At that moment, I know they are hurt, hurt really badly. I just have enough time to notice Pixie struggling to get out of the seat which has collapsed upon her. I know her little paws won't be able to handle it. Before I can even think about how I can help my family, my vision becomes painfully blur and I collapse somewhere in the car.

When I regain my consciousness, I have no idea where I am, though the place looks vaguely familiar. My head is throbbing with pain and as I reach up to touch it, I feel something has been wrapped around it firmly. The trees, the road. That's when I remember. I can see the remains of our car and a number of people are surrounding it. Some of them are walking towards me with a relieved look on their face. As soon as they reach me, I begin asking about my mom and dad but no one is listening to me. They are just looking at me anxiously and asking me questions which I don't understand. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. Then I see the ambulance, and next to it my parents and Pixie on stretchers, their faces covered with blood. I see a man in a white coat walk up to Pixie and inject something into her frail little body. Now I realise what has happened. I start screaming. I try to run towards them but someone drags me away from their lifeless bodies...

I jerked up at the sound of my alarm, gasping and struggling to breathe. I tried to calm down by telling myself it was just the same nightmare. I should be used to it by now, right? Wrong. No matter how many times that event replays in my head, it remains just as deadly and petrifying as it was when it occurred. No matter how hard I try to forget that fatal day, every night my mind intentionally reminded me of it. I clenched my teeth and fought back the tears I could feel escaping. I stepped into the bathroom and stared at my pale reflection. Dark circles were forming around my deep brown eyes and my long, brunette hair was tied up in a messy ponytail at the back of my head. It was obvious I needed a shower.

Once ready, I got out of my dorm and headed to the tuck shop to grab a snack. I ate the apple on my way to class and got myself mentally prepared for another boring day. There were two weeks left until summer, which I wasn't looking forward to. A summer of living with Aunt Claire and Uncle Joe isn't very exciting. Every time they see me they talk about my parents. I'm glad that they understand what I must have gone through. However, instead of helping me forget about it, they remind me of all the memories. They talk about how wonderful my parents were and how great life was when they were still around. Even worse is the fact that they pity me and try to reach out to me. I hate that. I don't want to be looked after. I'm afraid that as soon as I start loving someone, they'll be taken away from me by fate, leaving me heartbroken all over again. If that doesn't happen, then one day they'll get sick of me and walk away from my life because they'll know I'm not worth the effort.

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