Comfort

It was the worst night of my life when my whole life became a nightmare.

The only source of comfort I have was Charlie. Her presence brought me some sort of comfort in the darkest hours, and it made me sleep a little easier.

However, I knew that it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough to make all these horrible things that happened, stop. The pain, sorrow, hopelessness, and everything that I experienced, were still in store for us. There was a constant pain behind every word, behind every action, behind every thought. The world was merciless and cruel, it doesn't care for the misery you're suffering in its name. And I'm the one who deserves it.

All I wanted to do was cry, scream, yell, hit somebody, anything to let out the anger that boiled inside of me, but all I could do was lay in bed. All I could do was try and fall asleep, only for the nightmares to continue, the images flashing before my eyes, reminding me of what I'd done.

What I've caused.

The image of my mother lying lifeless on the ground, surrounded by blood, flashes by, followed by my father falling forward on his knees, trying to get up, failing each time. I could feel how hard he was breathing, how weak he was getting, and how helpless he was feeling. I could see him struggling to stand up, to move, to do something, anything, to help his wife, to save his daughter, to protect himself, to save me.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. He was powerless. He fell to the floor, unable to get up, unable to fight. It was just a simple accident. A drunk driver crashed and hit my dad's car. He didn't mean any harm, why is everyone blaming him?

He was driving home after work when something unexpected occurred. As far as he knew, there weren't any other cars coming towards him. No one was watching his car, but he could tell, somehow, he was being watched. His heart began racing, he tried to calm down, tried to think, tried to figure out who was watching him. He turned his head to the side slightly to check the mirror to see who else was watching him.

He froze completely when he saw that the person in the passenger seat was me, looking straight at him, smiling, laughing, giggling, mocking him. It was me. I was looking directly at him, grinning and laughing as if nothing ever happened, and for some reason, he couldn't move.

His heart warmed with a sense of comfort, little did he know that, that was what the observer needed, that little sense of distraction and security, and all in a matter of seconds, the flash of lights caught his attention, and his life flashed before his eyes, he knew there was nothing he could do. He knew it was going to end. He knew this was going to end sooner or later.

But he just kept staring at me. He could feel his heartbeat increasing, pounding against his chest with every second that passed, every millisecond he waited to wake up from the dream, but he didn't. He stayed glued to the spot, he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he realized it was all going to come true.

He could feel the fear in his body, the overwhelming feelings of fear, helplessness, and hopelessness. He closed his eyes, he didn't want to see the last thing he'd ever see, he didn't want to watch it unfold in front of him, and he felt his consciousness slipping away, the darkness taking over him as the world around him faded into darkness.

But then, out of nowhere, he could feel warm hands pulling him away, he tried to hold onto the warmth, but it just slipped away. He tried to hold on with every ounce of strength left in him, he wanted to do it for me, his daughter,but it was too late, and he didn't have any strength left, his last breath escaping before his frozen eyes.

He couldn't do it.

He could never do it.

And finally, finally, he lost.

His life flashed before his eyes once more, and once again he found himself in the same situation. It was me, I was the one who was holding him, I was the one holding his hand, I was the one telling him everything was going to be okay, everything would be alright. But it wasn't alright. This wasn't alright. That was when he realized he wasn't going to survive.

It was my fault...

My fault that he died, it was because I was stupid, I should have listened to Mum and Dad, but I had always been too stubborn for my own good.

He didn't deserve to die, he didn't deserve to die like that, he deserved so much more than that.

He didn't deserve to die like that.

This time it wasn't my father's hand keeping me safe.

He wasn't there anymore.

He was gone.

I woke up gasping for air as I sat upright on my bed. I slowly opened my eyes, looking around. I blinked a couple of times until I could focus properly. My breathing was uneven and my vision blurred, yet I could still see the room clearly. I didn't know when I fell asleep but now that I did, I didn't want to go back to sleep. I wanted to stay awake and clear my head of all these unwanted thoughts and memories. It was difficult though, as they kept replaying themselves in my head.

What was I doing here? Why did I come here? Why am I here? Where am I? How did I end up like this?

Why am I alive?

As the thoughts swirled around my head, I felt myself begin to shake, tears forming in my eyes as I began crying, not caring where they came from, all I cared about was that someone was there for me, and I needed them. I need them. I needed them to hold me, I needed Charlie.

Brought back to reality, I felt a hand, the same size as my own, warm compared to my pale and cold sweat-covered body, that was all the comfort I need, knowing she was there, knowing she won't judge me for how I felt and my struggles.

Leaning into her touch, she held me close, her hand in my hair, patting it slowly and softly, and I felt like everything will somewhat be ok with her by my side.