I took a step towards the glowering stars overhead, knowing that the farther I wandered, the closer I came to meeting my fate. My heart was quiet, except for the irregular single beat that rang in my eardrums. Just barely making out the outline of the full moon, I realized it was only an illusion in my mind. It was a way for me to cope, to dull the pain. It was a way for me to understand, my way of seeing the threefold glowing sun. Falling from the stars at once, my conscience pulled me back to the Earth, knowing I wasn't ready yet.
Heat beats at my face, hisses at my ear. My mind sees ebony fog envelope my body, my throat burning, unable to swallow cleansed oxygen.
A high-pitched scream came at me from everywhere at once, emanating from my own scratching throat. I was screaming, and my scream joined the many others as my calm persona dispersed into the fog and I became AWARE.
A crimson pool is beneath me, slowly but surely growing. My nostrils flare, the stench of burning metal and flesh penetrating them.
****
All the leaves have fallen from their branches. A thousand brown holes peek out from behind the snow-white bark. Crumpled brown plants, like skeletons come back to life, rose up against the tree trunks. Without their shimmering coats of green, the trees stood humble and cold. The afternoon road was a bustling, a multicolor blanket against the still, black pavement. The brisk November air sent a chill through my layered sweatshirt.
Weariness stuck to my muscles, the school day far to long for my taste. The last bell had rung, and I had dragged myself out the door to the buses. I sat with my lips pasted together, my hands frozen in my lap, and my eyes watching each student that climbed aboard. I lay my palm on the window beside me and when I removed it, I smiled at the fingerprints my palm left on the glass. Slipping my newly written poem from my bag, as well as my pencil, my hopes rose that I could edit it before arriving home. I pushed a strand of my long red hair behind my ear as the bus jerked forwards, but my mind was somewhere else by the time we took the first turn.
****
I gasped as a torrent of pain washed over me, then as my eyes flew open.
Heat penetrated my skin, and an orange glow wavered everywhere I looked. I attempted to recall where I was and what was happening, but my thoughts were too hazy. The longer I lay awake, the more aware I became of the pain. It came from everywhere inside my body, every time my heart thumped, every time I took a breath, every time I opened and closed my eyes from becoming overwhelmed.
The world had a crimson tint to it, and I could just barely make out the blue sky past a twisted wall of metal. It was laughing at me, so beautiful in all of this disoriented pain and memories. I turned my head, pain shooting into my left eye, but turning nonetheless. Everything appeared confusing at first. I frowned, trying to make sense of the bodies around me, until my thoughts rearranged and I remembered everything in uber, horrific detail.
****
The bus was icy, air conditioning blasting into the room. It dipped into a pothole that yanked me from my poem. I was stuck on the line “Stars cry rose-colored tears to the evening breeze”, not knowing what to write next. Not one ounce of inspiration hit me, so I returned the paper to its rightful place in my bag. I was bored, wanting to talk, but having no one there to talk to. Glancing around, a boy with sandy-blond hair and bright green eyes caught my attention. He smiled at me and winked.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself, looking away quickly. I had not known Jason was taking the bus home today, else I would have walked home. And I was not in the mood to talk to him. He dumped me, and I had been humiliated. And now he thought he could just barge back into my life like I still wanted him?
What kind of ass did he think he was?
Staring out the window, I threw on my poker face as I felt the empty seat beside me fill with his lithe body. A hideously tan arm appeared around my shoulders. I gritted my teeth and shoved his arm away. Turning to him, I practically hissed in his face, wincing at a full blown zit squatting on his cheek.
“Don’t touch me, okay Jason?”
“But I want you, Tara. I’m sorry for before, it was wrong of me,” he whispered, keeping our conversation between us and not the kids around us.
For one moment, I thought he was telling me the truth. With such a sincere tone it was possible that he had changed. Until a sly glint shone in his eye, and I knew he was lying, once again, to try and get me back. He leaned towards me and brought his hand up to my face, lightly touching my cheek. I sucked in a breath, not having felt a man's touch in months. My dad was not the touchy type, and since Jason had publicly dumped me, no man had touched me. Yet, Jason was no man, he was a young deushbag that only wanted between my legs.
I pulled myself together and slapped his hand away. Though, even as it lifted from my skin, regret filled me. I wanted a man to love me, but for me, not for my body or my virginity. In high school, that is cruelly rare. The first time that any girl really wants a relationship, is in high school, but it was a gamble. Be in a relationship for sexual intercourse, or hope you find the man for you, with honest morals and a good heart.
“I said, don’t touch me,” I whispered, just loud enough to get some looks from the other students.
“You don’t want to start another scene, do you Tara?” he asked slowly, eyebrows raised in question.
“Another? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” my voice fell dangerously low. He knew that when I got mad, especially at him, that it was not good. I had a really bad temper, but at times like this, I thanked God for it.
“I just mean that you…you're good at…I don’t mean…” he stammered like a child who got caught with the cookies.
I grinned at him, my eyes barreling him down.
“You sound like such an idiot, Jason. And trust me, that is all you are and will ever be. You don't deserve me, and you definitely don't get me a second time after what you did. So get over it and move on,” I said, a sharp tone to my voice.
Jason gulped, pathetically wide-eyed. He truly looked like a child, one that was ignorant and naive and needed some boundaries in his life. I blew him a sarcastic kiss and he scampered away from me. I sighed, glad I could finally say what I had needed to say for months.
Only then did the bus driver slam on the breaks, causing some kids to fall from their seats and wonder why he stopped. Only then did I see the semi-truck heading straight for the bus through the windows opposite me. Only then did I feel the momentum of the semi crash head on into the bus. Only then did the scream escape my throat and the heat explode in my face.
****
My hands were covered in blood.
I could feel my broken bones, my twisted leg. I felt the thick river of my own blood escaping my ripped skin. I stopped screaming, shocked silent by the pain. I wanted to let go. I wanted to stop fighting the pain, fighting death.
When images of my father, my mother and little brother shone in my mind, I knew I would not die. I had to stay, if not just for little Horus. They needed me, and I needed them.
My mind had accepted reality, that I was hurt and there was fire, and that I needed to get to safety. That set my limbs in motion. Until I realized I was pinned to the ground. Something was on my left leg, something heavy, something hot. Lifting my head despite the unbearable pain in it, my eyes opened wide at the sight before me.
I was still inside the bus, but all of the chairs where above me, floating on the ceiling. Fire burned in every direction, and smoke billowed to the ceiling. I could see the street, covered with freaked out pedestrians, just outside the gaping hole in the side of the bus. Gazing at the floor, I made out the twenty-five or so lumps around me, either backpacks or humans. Closing my eyes, I refused to take in the details. I refused to look at all the blood, all the burns, all the twisted limbs.
I lay my head back, gasping for air. In the distance, I could hear ambulances and police cars moving towards me, but they sounded so far away. I fought to keep awake, to keep myself alive. Unless I filled my mind with something soon, I would fall asleep, and without knowing what would happen if I did, I decided I had to look around more. I had to stay awake. Turning my head, a sandy-haired human in a couple feet away once again caught my eye.
I had not liked Jason, but he was a human being, I had known him, and now he lay slain on the floor of the bus. Tears pooled in my eyes, mixing with the blood, both fresh and dry, on my face. I could only make out Jason's burned skin, the fire that had him engulfed and crisp. I tried to reach my hand out to him, but found they would not move.
“Oh god, oh god,” I whispered, my voice cracking with tears and scratchy from screaming.
My eyes moved away without my telling them to, and fell on the thing crushing my leg. Or, worse, the metal pole sticking straight out of it, still rocking back and forth above me. I tried to move my leg, but pain that is not worth living through shot into me, and I threw my head backwards, causing it to crash into the ground.
I cried out in pain, emotional, spiritual and physical all thrown together in one cruel and twisted manner. Coughs began to wrack my body, every one causing my leg to move. Each cough sending blood spurting from my mouth. I tried to call for help, but the sirens still rang in my ears, loud and unforgiving. Somewhere in the back of my mind I noted that my shirt was soaked in blood, whether my own or others I did not know or care.
****
“Mom, come on, seriously?” I whined, eyebrows raised at her.
She glanced at me and smiled. “Yes, Tara, Goodwill. You need boots, and you have no money left from school shopping to buy any over thirty bucks.”
I sighed and unbuckled my seat belt once mom parked the car. Heading to the backseat, I helped Horus out of his booster. He was three and loved to be held. Lifting him, I ruffled his light red hair and kissed his forehead. He yelped in glee as we made our way inside the secondhand store.
Mom held up a pair of black boots with no heel and I cynically laughed.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Mom, those boots are from the olden days, okay? I need to look at least a little cool in school, I mean really?” I explained, taking the boots from her and shoving them back onto the shelf.
“Hey, maybe all you care about is looking cool, but I had to walk to school every day when I was younger. My boots were not cool, they were useful and good quality. These are good quality,” she argued.
I glared at her, “Don't you dare pull the I-had-to-walk-to-school trick. Every parent does that. Plus, you did not have the same social standards that we have now, mom, okay? So just trust me.”
“I do trust you. Just not with picking the best shoes,” she mumbled, tending to Horus, who spilled his drink on the floor next to her. I rolled my eyes, searching through the few rows of shoes and finding nothing of good value. I threw my hands into the air and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Mom, this is useless!” I exhaled.
She came around the corner, holding Horus in her arms. For a slight second I could sense her weariness. I could feel how hard she was trying, with Horus at home all the time, me being so hard to work with, dad losing his job at the bus station. And overall, I felt sorry for her. I had a longing to help her, but if I wanted to get to collage, I had to get through my junior year. I am already working two jobs after school.
Nowadays, the death of Lindsey is pulling our family apart. And I had sworn on the day she died, I swore to my older sister died from cancer, that I would watch over the family. That I would step up to the plate that they could float on. That I would be the one to trudge through the pain, not them.
I will keep that promise, until the day I die.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” she asked, a mask appearing to hide her emotions. I had already seen enough.
“I'm taking a third job,” I looked at the ground.
She stood before me, lips pulled tight together. Her eyes were wide, and slowly her head began to shake. Her hand flew to her mouth and she started biting her fingernails, as she always did when in distress. A moan escaped her mouth and tears filled her eyes. Horus was oblivious to it all.
“No, no you will not. Your father will find one, do you hear me?” she tried hard to keep her tears in.
I sighed heavily. “Mom, we both know that is not true.”
She began to weep, and I dove forwards to wrap my arms around her and Horus. I was taller than her, so she buried her face in my bright pink tank top.
“You are not supposed to carry the family, your father is. You are too young for this!” she heaved between sobs.
I hushed her and stroked her hair. “It's my duty, mom. It's my duty to you and dad, to Horus.”
“No, it is not.”
“And it's my duty to Lindsey,” I whispered in her ear, tears forming in my own eyes.
****
I could make out swirls and dots on the edge of my vision. All black, they danced around me, threatening to make me go insane. I had blocked out the screaming around me, the blood, the pain, and I had escaped into my own world. My world, where everything was green on the other side, but I was always on the other side. My world, where pain only surfaced when I lost focus, or faith that it could save me. I was so immersed that by the time the paramedics arrived, I must have looked delusional to them. Until I returned to my terrifying reality and saw them hovering over me, rushing back and forth between the gaping hole in the bus to the kids inside.
I grasped one mans arm and felt soft hairs on my fingers. He looked down and realized in horror that I was conscious. I tried to smile at him, but failed miserably.
“It hurts,” I wheezed.
He yelled something to the other doctors as their eyes widened and mouths twisted in hideous frowns. The man had short hair, smooth as water, and as he moved over to sit beside me, he started badgering me with questions. I could not make out what he was saying, and the pain from my leg was making my body jerk. Shaking my head, I tried to intertwine my finger with his, I needed somebody to hold my hand.
He looked into my eyes, and then I saw it. His doubt, that I would survive, that I would live. A single tear dripped down my cheek, and he nodded, taking his hands and covering mine. I squeezed, glad to finally have somebody near me to comfort me.
Or at least try.
****
The aroma of apple and mint was strong. A slight breeze lifted what I assumed was my hair. My skin prickled, fairly cold but still comfortable. My lips felt chapped and my eyes felt heavy. My heart felt the same way, chapped, heavy and broken into a thousand shards unable to put themselves back together again, just like humpty-dumpty. Fragments of memory floated back to me, the color of scarlet, the heat from many fires, the screaming coming from my own throat. I wanted to open my eyes, to get away from the flashes, but I was afraid I would see the same thing. I understood only then what people meant by a tragedy running their life. It was always stuck in you, part of your framework from that moment on. Something you would always see, hear, smell, dream of at night, have flashbacks to in the middle of a regents test. It would always be there, right inside my shattered heart and soul. No one would ever be able to free me from it.
Before I could change my mind, I forced my eyes open, only to be greeted by a room filled with beige. A beige rug, beige walls and ceiling, a beige chair with nobody in it. Beside me loomed tall silver machines, with beeping sounds emanating from them. A familiar man in a white lab coat stood with his back to me.
He was the man that held my hand, the man who thought I would not live. The man I would never forget for years to come. Reaching out my hand slowly, I lightly touched his coat. Turning, the man sprouted a smile and dropped to my level. I noticed tears gathering in his eyes, and as they slipped upon his skin, I wiped them away, my hand shaking. I smiled, with only an ache revealing itself. His face was weary, just like my moms has been. Wrinkles plagued his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Bags hung under his chocolate pupils. His hair was matted down and a grayish-black.
“Hey,” he said, voice cracking.
“Hey,” I croaked back,, wondering how long I had been out. I also wanted to know why nobody was here waiting for me to wake.
“You made it. You pulled through, Tara,” he exhaled with a light chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I looked in his eyes and this time saw relief and joy at my recovery. I coughed, still smiling at him.
“Tell me everything,” I ordered, knowing that I had to find out what happened. Why it happened, and what I did to deserve it. What any of those kids did to deserve it.
“Are you-”
“Yes, please, just tell me.”
“A 2011 Chevy Silverado was speeding through a red light, and your bus stopped so as to not hit it. As a result, a semi-truck hit your bus on its side, killing the driver and three kids on impact. Your bus flipped several times and the front ripped off. I...I can't do this, I won't make you relive this,” he looked away.
I reached for his hand once again, and grasped it tight. Without looking at me, he knew I was begging him to go on. I had to know what happened, and some part of him knew that.
“There were twenty-five kids on your bus, plus the driver. When we got there, none of them were conscious but you. Three died on impact, seven died before they got to the hospital, ten were injured, including you. Of those ten who came here, four have died so far. The last five including the driver escaped with minor injuries,” he whispered, biting his thumb.
I gulped, cruel guilt rising in my mind. Why did I get to live, while all of those others died? We all have families, people who care about us. Why was I spared and not them? Was I being punished? Was I supposed to die, but someone else died in my stead, like Jason?
“A boy named Jason Marshall, is he dead?”
The doctor, whose name tag said Nathaniel Thomas, licked his lips and stood, nodding. I covered my mouth with my hand and turned to look out the window. Through it I could see nothing but Jason's sandy hair and green eyes, and that one zit on his cheek. What was the last thing I had said to him? You sound like such an idiot, Jason. And trust me, that is all you are and will ever be. You don't deserve me, and you definitely don't get me a second time after what you did. So get over it and move on. Tears escaped the sanctuary of my eyes as I wondered what his last thought had been before he...
I would never be free of this guilt.
I was locked inside a cage, wrought of flashbacks and pain.
“How badly was I hurt?” I asked, still gazing out the window and seeing nothing.
Dr. Thomas was paced the area at the end of my bed. His head was shaking, alongside his arms, which bumped rapidly against his sides.
“I have been doing this for too long. I need to retire,” he panted.
“Please, tell me,” I begged, I realized for the first time that I could not feel my injured leg. It was probably due to the painkillers.
“We had to graft skin onto some areas of your body that were burned, and we gave you a new nose. Your heart stopped for two minutes, but we revived you. You lost a lot of blood from your chest wound, and you had a collapsed lung,” he began.
I was breathing hard, and frowned. “Chest wound?” I interjected.
“A piece of metal cut your chest open, but we sewed that back up. You had three fractures in your right arm, not including your broken wrist,” he said quietly, causing me to notice for the first time that my arm was in a cast. I wondered why I had not noticed before now?
“And, Tara?”
“Yes?” I asked hesitantly, picking up on a tone of melancholy.
“Your leg injury was...well...we...my doctors and I tried to...” he sighed heavily and walked over to the end of my bed. Throwing back to covers, I finally understood why I could not feel my left leg. It was not because of painkillers, but because there was nothing there.
I was shocked into silence.
Maybe this was Gods way of paying me back since I lived and the others did not. Maybe it was Jason's way of paying me back for my last words to him. Maybe it was because for so long after Lindsey died, I blamed myself, and for that sin I am being punished. Or maybe it is not a punishment at all, but instead a lesson.
Or, maybe it was just a freak accident that nobody could have prevented no matter how hard they tried.
