*Title
Undecided*
Chapter
3
I suppose the
question on your mind would be how my mother died, which is where
things get confusing in this story. So, I'll try my best to
explain it all. First, I should say that Chapter One was written
thirteen months before this one and the one before this. This is
because I couldn't continue at that time. Well, I
shouldn't say that. I continued until Chapter 6, but my tears
smeared the words, so I knew I should wait.
So, Chapter 1 was writeen just two weeks
after the day. And this is how that day went.
Viv and I woken up at six o'clock in
the morning, so we had to time to get ready and take a taxi to a
small town, a little over an hour from our apartment. We went to
mass, and stayed half an hour after it ended to pray by
ourselves. We walked out and down the steps to our taxi parked on
the opposite side of the street. He waits because this taxi takes
us here and back once or twice a week with good pay. It was cold,
so put my earmuffs on tight and ran to the curb Itook my first
step off, and dashed across the street, not knowing about the
huge truck right in the middle of the street, too close to where
I was crossing. Viv ran out and pushed me, hard. Harder than
I've ever been pushed. So hard that I fell and hit my head on
the opposite curb. I sat up and crawled toward the brick office
building. I put my back up against it and rubbed my head. Not
five minutes after, I heard noise. A lot of it. People screaming.
I took off my earmuffs and it just got ten times louder. I could
feel someone near me, so I reached out and tugged on their
pants.
"What's going on?" I
asked.
The lady was out of breath,
"Vivienne Jameson....Truck. It was huge. She's
dead."
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I stayed completely still. For I don't know how long. Ten
minutes? Hours? I couldn't even guess. Until some man took my
and led me to a car. He opened the door and I slid in the back
seat. It smelled funny. I guessed I was in a police car, but I
didn't know where I was going. I could hear them talking,
though.
"Was it her fault? Witnesses say
she ran out." It was a women.
"I'm not sure yet. Call Jeff
and tell him to get rid of everyone on the street. The news
stations, bystanders, everyone. Get them out. And then close the
roads. From Chesnut to Willow." That was a man.
Then, I heard the woman repeat what the
man said to someone else. I didn't hear the response. I
figured I was going home, or to my dad's, and the drive was
long. Since I had nothing better to do, I slept.
I was just drifting off when the door
flung open, and I was- once again- grabbed by the arm and pulled
somewhere. I was unfamiliar with where I was until I smelled it.
That antiseptic-y, sickly smell. I was at the hospital. I tried
to escape, but their grip was too tight. I was pulled into a room
and thrown on a table like thing. It was hard and smooth, and the
smell was stronger. Luckily, they just checked out my head, told
the officers I was fine, I just needed some Advil or Tylonel or
something, and then I went home. The process wasn't really
that quick, but the details are boring. The car ride home was
long again.
In case you did not pick up yet...
I was blind.
