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We pulled out of the ramp and started making the drive home. We lived about thirty minutes north of the inner city, so it wasn’t a long drive, but with the roads being icy from the snow, you had to drive a lot slower. Black ice was a hidden killer here.
As we reached one of the major highways outside of the city, the route home was straight ahead from there. Heading north, I noticed a bright, blinding light ahead of us that kept getting brighter.
Seconds later, I heard a high-pitched scream, my Dad cursing loudly, and my body was jerked sharply; my head hit the window—hard. The sounds of glass shattering, metal crushing in on itself, tires screeching, and a horn that just kept going on and on…
I blinked my eyes open; my head was pounding with pain, and my vision was blurry. I touched a hand to the side of my head, and when I looked back down at it, I saw that it was covered in blood. As my vision started to correct itself, I could see that I was no longer in the rear seat of the car; I was lying on the inside of the roof.
Slowly, I crawled out of the broken window, the shards of glass cutting into the palms of my hands and my knees. I collapsed just outside of the window for a second, my body becoming cold and wet from the snow.
My head was spinning, and I couldn’t think straight. There was a loud ringing in my ears.
Tail lights: I saw tail lights and headlights buried in the snow. Then, I saw emergency lights lighting up the street in the distance. I rolled on my side to help myself sit up. My parents' car was upside down in front of me, and at first glance, they were no longer in it.
“Mom! Dad!” I yelled, looking around from where I was sitting, thinking that maybe they had already crawled out of the car and were looking for me. I attempted to stand up but crumpled inward as I grabbed my side. At least one of my ribs was broken, digging into my organs, but I needed to find my parents.
Finally, after several tries, I managed to stand up and make my way around the car, where I could see the emergency vehicles pulling up with their lights and sirens blaring and echoing out into the night. My gaze trailed down from the street, and I saw that the snow was no longer white; it was red.
I stopped breathing. My pulse began to race, and I started going numb—whether it was from the cold or the blood, I wasn’t entirely sure. I stepped further around and towards the dark figures that stood out in the snow, one of them a deep shade of purple. My eyes began to glaze over.
“Mom… Dad…” I rasped, my voice cracking and my heart breaking with every step. I took another step closer, and that was when I saw her face covered in blood, her hair falling over her features. Her eyes closed. She looked as if she was asleep. I ran. I ran to her body, tears beginning to fall from my eyes as I pulled her lifeless body into my lap. She wasn’t breathing, and she was cold. I screamed. I screamed so loud that my throat burned and became raw. I could barely see anything as the tears flooded my eyes and froze against my cheeks.
Turning my head slightly to the side, I saw the body of my Dad, motionless, the same as my Mom. The snow around them both was painted in blood. No longer bright white and untouched, but dark red and stirred. I could no longer hear the sirens of the emergency vehicles. I couldn’t even hear my screaming. Was I still screaming? My throat was burning, and I could barely breathe.
Hands grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to pull me away from my Mom’s body. I shook them off and gripped her tighter, bending over her body and burying my face into her hair, taking a deep inhale of her calming scent. Warm vanilla and coconut. There was a hint of iron to her scent now… from her blood.
After a few more minutes, I was ripped away from her lifeless body, my gaze moving to the body of my Dad, which paramedics were checking with grim faces. The tears continued flowing from my eyes, and I fought whoever was pulling me away from them. I fought with whatever energy I had left in me. I could barely feel the cold anymore. My clothes were soaked through, and I didn’t feel a thing.
I was numb.
Everything was shutting down.
Eventually, I stopped fighting.
I stopped seeing.
I was frozen in time.
I had left my body completely.
All that was left was the muffled sounds around me, but even those were hard to hear. I had shut off somehow, everyone and everything around me disappearing into a void of nothing.
I faintly remember being placed in the back of an ambulance, the paramedic looking me over and picking glass out of my hands and knees. I didn’t even flinch as they pulled the shards of glass from my skin. I just sat there in my numb and out-of-body state. I was sure that they were asking me questions.
Who are you? Do you know your name? Do you know what happened? Where were you going? What are your parents names?
My parents… I don’t remember their names… Why can’t I remember their names?
Harper and Justin Tate. My parents.
A blanket was wrapped around me, and I was then placed in a police car. They set me in the back seat, and I turned to look outside the window at my parents' car, upside down in the snow. I stared out the window until someone drove the car away, driving me to wherever I needed to go. I didn’t care. I was an empty vessel—my parents.
A week later. I was on my way to a new home—no, home wasn’t the right word for it. It was what the social worker was calling it, but there would never be a new home for me. My home was back in that country-style house in the suburbs—with my parents. I still haven’t spoken to anyone. They all think I am broken from the accident—and isn’t that the complete truth? That accident shattered me like it shattered the windows of our car. I still don’t know the full details of what had happened. Every time someone tried to tell me, their voices became muffled and faded into silence.
We pulled up to the house. We were no longer in Minnesota; we were now in Wisconsin. A girl my age was sitting outside on the steps of their house. Her parents were behind her, sitting on the porch. She was pretty, with long white blonde hair. She smiled at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back at her. This is where I was being left behind—to another family who already had a daughter they cherished and loved.
Her parents came down the steps to meet the social worker and me at the car. We were escorted inside and sat in their living room. Their house was warm and inviting. The couches were soft, and you sunk into them when you sat down. There was a fireplace in the living room, and the mantle was covered with photos of the beautiful family that lived there.
Their memories.
