I wake up in a cold sweat with a sharp pain in my back. I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming in agony. It doesn't work. Dad runs into my bedroom, turns on the lights, and sits on my bed. He starts to rock me back and forth as I cry.
"It's okay, Orabelle. I'm here." I focus on his gentle words and calm breaths as I try to slow down my own breathing. Finally, my once heavy gulps are replaced by soft puffs of air entering and leaving my mouth slowly and surely.
"We're gonna fix this," Dad says after a long but comfortable silence. However, I can't help but silently disagree.
Four Years Earlier
"Come on Belle!" Ollie, my 7-year-old brother was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. It was my twelfth birthday and for Ollie, his first time going to New York City.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I said as Ollie dragged me outside to the car.
"Everybody buckled up?" Mom asks.
"Yes!" Ollie and I exclaimed.
"Alrighty," Dad replies, "then away we go!" Dad starts the car and I silently gazed out the window, watching my familiar town of Elizabeth run past. About fifteen minutes into the ride, my eyes felt heavy and swallowed by warm, comforting darkness.
I woke to the sudden scream of the cars passing by.
"Dad, what's going on?"
"I don't know sweetheart. Maybe there's—" BAM. The darkness was warm no more.
Present Day
"We can't fix this Dad," I whisper.
He sighs, "Look, I know I can't bring Mom and Ollie back, but you can't keep beating yourself up this. You're turning sixteen tomorrow, can I at least buy you a cake?"
I shook my head, "It won't be the same."
He frowns and plants a kiss on my forehead, "Try to get some rest, okay?"
"Okay," I give him a sad smile. He turns the lights off and leaves the room. I am encased in darkness once more.
The next morning, I wake to the smell of bacon and eggs. I look at the calendar sitting on my desk. November 19th is circled with red ink.
I roll out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen. Dad is standing over the stove, close to burning a pan of scrambled eggs.
"Hey," he says abruptly as he serves me some eggs and bacon.
"Hey," I respond as I start eating.
He pauses, I can tell that he's choosing his words carefully, as though one wrong word could break the fragile person sitting in front of him.
He finally decides on something to say, "I miss them too."
"I know Dad." We sit there in silence, not knowing how exactly to console each other.
"What do you want to do today?" he asks. I glance towards the stairs. After breakfast, I was planning on going back to my room and spending the rest of the day alone.
"I think I'm just gonna go to the spot and read," I reply. He smiles. The spot is a clearing in the woods where I used to go and read for hours. I would sit on a tree stump and read until I could see the cotton candy sky.
"I should probably get dressed now," I say.
Dad takes my empty plate, "I'll take care of the dishes."
I smile, "Thanks, Dad." I run-up to my room, almost excited to go to the spot. I haven't been there since Mom and Ollie died.
* * *
As I walked through the forest book in hand, I appreciated the peace and the fresh air around me. Maybe dad is right about getting out more. When I reached the tree stump, I sat down, opened my book, and began to read.
As time passed my eyes became heavier and heavier, but I refused to put down my precious novel. I struggled to keep my eyes open but fought to finish just one more chapter. Pretty soon, I was slumped over on the tree stump, fast asleep.
* * *
I woke up hours later, startled by the sudden rustling of the trees around me. I rubbed my eyes, "What time is it?"
I determine that it must be dinner time, as the sun is already starting to set. I groggily pick my book up and notice that the bookmark has disappeared from my lap. I scan my surroundings and see it has blown ahead of me on the path towards my house.
Suddenly, the wind picks up again and the bookmark flies away. "Come back here!" I yell as I begin to chase it down the path. I finally catch up to it just before the woods meet the road and snatch right before it hits the street. "Gotcha!" I exclaimed triumphantly. I look ahead to check the road before I cross and see a little boy riding his bike just feet ahead of a speeding car.
I watch in horror as the unsuspecting boy pedals down the street, the car getting closer and closer. They need to slow down but at this point, it's too dark for them to notice. I start frantically waving my arms, desperately trying to get the drivers' attention. "Hey!" I scream, "Slow down, please!"
Neither the driver nor the cyclist seems to notice and I stare in despair at the earbuds in the cyclist's ears that I just now seem to notice. I turn my attention away from him and again focus on the driver. "Hey!" I scream again.
I watch in horror as the driver stares in every direction but where I want him to. He shrugs and looks down, seemingly just receiving a very important text. My fear suddenly turns to rage and I can feel it boiling over as I yell, "Stop!"
Time stands still, literally. The wind stops blowing and trees freeze in their slanted positions. The car comes to an abrupt halt and the driver, though unmoving, still stares down at his phone with a smirk. Not even the boy on the bike moves until I question, "What are you doing?" followed by a frustrated "Go home!"
Just soon as a spoke, the boy was pedaling again and the only noise present in the unmoving world was the sound of his bike bell in the distance. I sighed in relief and ran across the street to where the car was still. I walked up to the side of the car and gave the driver a piece of my mind, "Go home you jerk!"
The wind returned to the trees and waved him off. And just as soon as he had stopped, the driver sped off and left me to wonder what in the world I had just done.