CHAPTER TWO: A MEMORY

CHAPTER TWO: A MEMORY

When I was younger I lived in a small house in Arthuria Valley, a place named after the infamous King Arthur of Britain. The house had three bedrooms, and one bath, a spacious kitchen, and a small but cozy living room.

I lived with my adopted parents, my young brother, my younger sister, and my adoptive grandmother, the mother of my adoptive mother. We lived a happy and comfortable life. I started ballet when I was five because I suppose that's what mothers do; they put their daughters in ballet and their sons in karate. My mother was different, she put us in both, and only when we were old enough to decide which we liked she allowed us to stop doing one.

I chose ballet and my sister chose karate, my brother hated both but had an affinity for the violin. The point is I was happy. I left my book bag at the door when I came in from school and my mother would yell at me as I ran up the stairs, we ate at seven and talked about our day. We played in the backyard on Saturday and went to Mass on Sundays. We were a normal, happy family.

But I suppose good things never lasted, there much be a sort of balance.

At the age of sixteen, my entire perfect little world was flipped upside down. My parents, sister, and I were coming from a supermarket located in Port Antonia. My mother was driving, my father sat in the passenger seat and my sister and I were in the back.

I remember that it was a chilly day and I wore my favorite jacket, it was a light blue jacket that my mother got from Old Navy. My mother had her hair in box braids and pulled away from her face and in a bun at the top of her head. My father's ginger hair fell into his face and his forest green eyes shined mischievously.

We stopped at an intersection, "Night Nurse" by Gregory Isaacs was playing, my mother who was Guyanese born loved to listen to Reggae music. I remember that we were singing along when this feeling that something terrible was about to happen. I looked up and looked straight at the rearview mirror in time to see a truck slam into us.

I remember the car spinning and then stopping only for it to begin flipping. I remember screaming, metal scraping against the concrete, glass breaking, and just chaos. I remember hearing a gurgling sound like someone was choking on something. I don't know how long this went on but the next I knew I was in a hospital with so many things wrong, I can't even remember them now.

What I do remember was that my mother and father were dead and my sister was barely alive. My grandmother was sobbing and holding my brother closer to her chest. I remember that my perfect little world was completely destroyed.