“Come on,girl ! Stay with me ! Talk to me !” I feel a hard pressure on my chest and I open my eyes. I look around me. I seem to be in a moving object. I hear an engine. It's a car ! There are two young men hanging over my head and they look at me with relieve. I move my hand to my face and touch a plastic mask, which covers my nose and mouth.
“What happened?” I ask confused
“Car accident. You went straight into the front of a truck.”
I start to remeber. My dad was giving me driving lessons and.....MY DAD!
“Where's my dad ?! WHERE IS HE ?! HE WAS IN THE CAR WITH ME!”
“Calm down, girl. Please, we need you to stay relaxed.”
But I can't. I start screaming and yelling and I want to get out of this car! I want to sit on the sofa in our living room and watch TV. I can't bare this anymore. I try to stand up, I realize I'm buckled up so I pull and scratch aggresively on the metal safety clip, but it won't open. The two men hold me with full strength down and then I feel a needle stab into my arm. My eyes suddenly feel really heavy and I struggle to keep them opened and finally they close.
***
“Hey, Jayne,” I hear the soft, trembling voice of my mother “How are you feeling?”
I sit up and my mother stables me with her hands. I am in a classical hospital room. White bed, white walls, monitors all over and I am wearing these typical, ugly patient gowns.
“Other than the stabbing pain in my ribs and head...alright, I guess” I answer sarcastically.
"Yes, the doctors told me you have a few broken ribs and a huge wound on your forehead. Other than that, you're fine.”
I stroke my fingertips carefully along my forehead and touch a rough bandage, which is wrapped around my head.
“What about dad ?”
And in a split second, I know I had said something wrong. Very wrong. My mother breaks down in tears and lays her head on the edge of the bed. It took a while for her to lift her head and say something.
“He had to get brain surgery because his brain was bleeding...He didn't make it.” Again, tears flow down her chubby cheeks and she rests her head on the bed. I stroke her hair and whisper “What have I done? God, what have I done?”
“It's not your fault, darling. It could have happened to anyone of us. I don't want you to blame it on you.”
But I don't respond, instead I keep saying the words “What have I done?”
YOU ARE READING
There is a 'Good' in 'Goodbye'
Mystery / ThrillerThis is the story of 16 year old Jayne Clarkson, who had to say "Goodbye" to her father in a car accident, that she caused. Every night and every day, the memories haunt her. But it's not the car incident, that she remembers so clearly. It's the lit...
