. part two."Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean." ~ David Searls.
Flashes of the weeks leading up to the accident flooded my mind. The party that everyone attended, getting grounded for sneaking out, my ugly break up with Dwayne, and finally the mysterious letters that have being coming to me in the post.
"Miss Andrews? The answer to question four, if you may," the teacher asked with that amused smirk on her face.
"Umm... I don't know the answer," was my weak reply.
"Stay back after class Kaelah, I need to talk to you."
Fuck. It's just not my day. I went back to drawing on my paper and thinking about the past, when everything was happy and comfortable, unlike the present.
The bell pitched its usual ringing; concluding that the school day was over. I sleepily packed up my things before heading over to see what my teacher wanted.
"Kaelah " she began, stretching out the word as if it meant something, "all the teachers know that what yo
."There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." ~ Oscar Wilde
The alarm started blaring in my ear, signalling for me to get up and get dressed ready for the day to come. Of course the little machine beeping didn't know that I was already dressed, just waiting for that crucial second call that would never come. Never again will mum come in and shake me awake, or drag me into the car so I wouldn't be late for school. Never again.
Tears started to well up in my eyes as I thought about everything that wouldn't be happening since that grave day. No, I thought, I won't focus on the fact that my life as I know it is over. Instead I got up and faced the day ahead of me.
Everything was a blur, one long, colourful, hurtful blur. Strangers passing by that bump into me, say sorry and then continue walking, birds that chirp and chase each other under table legs and chairs, looking for crumbs of food, children who
Preface.Time keeps going by; second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour.
Days turn into weeks, weeks to months, and months to years.
Accidents occur one tragedy after the next.
What's done is done, and can't be erased. Or can it?
Remember -Beth-Remember the day I first met you, dreading being the one having to show you around. Afraid that you would move onto the 'popular' group, like so many before you. I'm glad I was wrong.
Remember how we'd write in maths, ignoring the teacher when she told us to put it away. Our story is 9 pages long, with no ending, and so many possibilities.
Remember the times that we sung together, laughing uncontrollably when Brownie humped the door. The boys would do anything to make us lose concentration, and that's how it should be.
Remember jumping into the photo booths with our other friends. You had to tell us what to do, 'cause we didn't know, it was our first time. Then we forced you to ride the pigs with us, even though you didn't want to.
Remember me sleeping over, playing sing star in the early hours of the morning. I bet your high score on Zombie Cranberries, and that score still remains, no matter how hard you try.
Remember us getting calls from Samuel while he was in London, I trie