It kicked off quickly before I even knew it had begun. I stood in a blazing inferno. Ashes blew in what was a hot blazing wind. Coals smoked beneath where I was standing. The collapsing house was easy to compare with the word death. Everything was falling around me in flames, yet I felt no pain. The loud crackle and the roar of flames only contributed to the horror I was in. "Where am I?" My lips met the words but no noise came out. Somehow, I became mute. A word appeared in my mind without me thinking it, as if someone was in control of me.
Watch. Suddenly as the word dissolved into nothing, two figures walked slowly towards me. Two shadowy figures, one carrying the other. "Hello?" I mouthed again. Upon realizing I could move I slowly walked through the ashes, the coals and through the flames to where the two shadows were. It was a boy. Looking around 16, he limped on while carrying a boy no younger than 9. Their faces had the same features. Square jaws, coffee brown eyes, and short messy hair. They continued to get closer, and the sound of muffled crying began to ring in my ears. I stared as he collapsed with the boy loosely in the boy's arms, which were black with ash. The small little boy eyes were barely open when he whispered to the older boy. "Charlie, can you teach me some soccer moves when I wake up tomorrow.?" The older boy stared at him as his tears rolled down his face and into his brother's hair. "Of course, I'll teach you the best tricks there are." The younger boy gasped for breath, "Good. Maybe I'll be as good as you are someday." "I'm positive you will." The older boy said holding his brother's hand. The little boy said nothing else. It was then that I realized that that poor boy had passed away. The older boy remained. "I'm sorry, Sean." He sobbed. "This is all my fault." The remaining boy left his dead brother behind, and continued to walk past me. I turned around as he stopped in his tracks. "Why is this happening to me!?" He screamed. "Why didn't you take me instead, God!" "No. Why would you say that?" I mouthed. He whirled his head around to where I was standing. I stared at him waiting for his next move. I never got to have the chance to ask him if he heard me, for at that moment, a piece of burning wood broke and fell on top of him. "No!" I silently screamed as I dashed towards him. His screaming of suffering and pain echoed the house as I tried to lift the log off of him. "Oh god, come on!" I struggled to lift the wood, but my efforts failed; my strength was gone. All at once, his hands came up to the log and he managed to push it off. He struggled to breath as I watched him fall into unconsciousness. "I'm sorry," I mouthed," I tried." As I recollected my bearings, the voice returned to my head once more.
Don't make the same mistake. "What?" Before it could even answer, though, I blacked out.
*=====*
I woke up in a cotton white hospital bed. Everything was peacefully quiet, except for the beeping of the cardiac monitor to my right. I was hooked up to an IV as well, which was to my left. A soft breeze blew through my body as I shifted uncomfortably. My grogginess made it hard to access on what was going on. I didn't know where I was, and also couldn't remember why I was here in the first place. The dream, if it even was a dream at all, was upsetting me as well. It shook me to the core, not because it was scary, but it was amazingly real. It was as if the flaming house and the boy who lost his little brother actually happened. The older boy's face was still embedded in my mind. Most of all were his eyes.
Don't make the same mistake. What did the voice mean? Was there something I was missing that may possibly hurt me? Nonetheless, I tried to shake the dream off in order to calm myself down. As I scanned the room, I noticed a figure slumped into a chair out of the corner of my eye. When I turned my head fully towards the person, I immediately knew who it was. "Dad." I whispered. I had regained my voice, but I found that it actually hurt to talk. My throat throbbed as I waited for a response. I attempted to try again for the first time did not reach his ears. "Dad." He woke up startled, and when his eyes finally met mine after looking around the room a few times, they teared up. "Faith!" He said standing up and stumbling over to me. "Faith! Thank god, you're finally awake!" He hugged me tightly as if he was afraid to lose me. "Yea dad," I rasped, "I guess I am." He let go of me to look into my eyes. "Where am I?" I asked. It was a moment before he responded. "You're in the hospital, Sweetheart. They just finished operating on you a 28 hours ago." "Why?" I was a little pale at the fact that I had to have surgery. "Why did I get surgery?" He was holding back, I could tell. "Tell me, dad." "You were shot." He blurted out. "Twice. You were shot twice." Those words shattered me into pieces. "Why?" I cried. "Why- why would someone do that-" "I don't know," he interrupted, "but you're safe now. Don't you worry. The police are taking care of it." "But, I want answers!" I protested. It was true. I really did want answers. Before my father could respond, a knock was heard from the door. Then, a doctor and a nurse stepped into the room. "Well, well!" The doctor said proudly. "Look who cheated death in a game of chess. In other words, you're alive!" My father turned and pointed his finger over to the doctor. "Faith, meet Dr. Linney. He's the one who made sure you woke up." I stared at him. His hair was blonde and his glasses matched his pale face. He was a tall skinny man. A pure opportunist. "It's truly an honor to meet you." I looked at him curiously. "Why's that?" "Well," he said while flattening out the ruffles on his blue hospital shirt. "Everyone's calling you the miracle girl. After all you did take some nasty gunshot wounds." He pointed to his body. "One went straight through your shoulder. The other one got lodged in you abdomen." I looked down to see the bloody white bandages stretching across my shoulder. "Luckily, someone called an ambulance before it was too late." My head shot up. "I was taken here in an ambulance?" The doctor's face became puzzled from my question. "Faith." He approached and put his hand on my good shoulder. "Do remember anything from that day?" I couldn't stare into his eyes. Instead, I looked down at my stripped hospital gown and twisted my bandaged hand into them. "I don't." I replied quietly. There was an chilling silence that overtook the room. After several seconds, it was broken. "Hm," the doctor said, rubbing his chin, "It's not that uncommon for someone to loose their memory of the few hours after or before the accident, but to forget the whole day of the disaster or even more..." He trailed off, but soon regained thought. "We'll have to look into that."
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