One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “Now honey are you sure you’re ready to see your mother?” My dad asked me gently.  

            My mom, how could I forget? I had been trying to forget that fact that I was about to visit her in the mental hospital in southern California. Last year, during my 16^th birthday she locked her self in the bathroom and tried to committee suicide. I couldn’t even look at her when she left in the ambulance, and to add on top of the pain I was feeling that my mom would try to kill herself, my brother had just been kidnapped, and was nowhere to be found.

            For a month now my dad kept assuring me that he was alive and that we would find him, but my hope was withering for my brother and mom.

            The day was ugly and gray. There was a light rain but it was very foggy. My dad glanced over at me and dimly smiled. I tried to smile back but I was tired of faking that I was happy and okay, because I’m not. We use to live happily in Washington, but with all the negative things that were happening around us we moved to California.

            Yes, California I beautiful, but I know no one her. The only thing I look forward to in the day is seeing the sun set behind the silvery blue waves.

            “If you want we can come back next week… when you’re ready.” My dad looked at my amber eyes.

            “Dad, we’re already here we might as well just get it over with.” I said coldly.

            Sometimes I did feel bad for my dad. I loved him, but he was turning just as cold and bitter as me. First the woman he loves tried to kill herself than his first son get kidnapped, and now all he has is me, and I’m not much.

            My dad starts to go down a small slope, and a look of panic comes over his face.

            “Dad what’s wrong?” I ask, trying to see past the thick fog.

            “The brakes don’t work.” My dad stomped down on the brake pedal.

            “What—“ before I can finish my sentence a truck is coming head on to us, and doesn’t move. “Dad!” I scream just as the front of the truck smashes into his side of the car.

            Sharp rugged pieces of glass flies into my thick hair and into my cold arms. I scream as the car tumbles over, down the moist hill. Nausea comes over me from the car tumbling some many times. I feel something sharp and cold wacked the back of my skull, and I go out cold.