Bang. Smack.
Crash. My arms flailed wildly about the car as my mother
screamed. Scrape. Thud. Our car was tumbling down a hillside.
I was strapped into my car seat, but that didn't stop me from flying
around the inside of the car. Screech. Hiss. Silence. Our car
came to an abrupt halt against a boulder as my mother frantically
called my name.
"Dakota....
Dakota!"
"Mommy,
what happened?" I asked, blinking back hot, sticky tears.
"It's
gonna be alright sweetie," She said, trying to reassure me.
She
had blood running down her face, staining her platinum blonde hair.
Her legs were pinned under the steering wheel and her face was cut
and bruised from the impact of the accident. My head was throbbing
from the pain. I had smacked my head so hard against the window that
cracks like spiderwebs were forming in the glass. I could hear my
mother's high pitched voice talking to me, but a thick haze shrouded
my mind. The corners of my vision began fading into black, and
I suddenly could only see what was in front of me. My breathing was
heavy as my eyes began to dart side to side, trying to make sense of
what just happened. The air was heavy around me and I felt like
couldn't get enough air in my lungs. Slowly, the darkness around me
took over.
Sometime
later, I regained consciousness. I awoke to an unfamiliar face- a man
with a badge, trying to pull me from the car's shattered window. All
I could do was move my eyes to look at him.
"Hey
sweetheart," the strange man said, with an unsure smile on his
face.
I
blinked a few times to release the tears that were stuck on my lower
eyelid. They burned the cuts scattered along my cheeks as they slid
down my face.
"Can
you squeeze my hand for me?" He asked me, gripping my right hand
through the window.
I
tried diligently to respond. I knew I wasn't moving my hands, but he
still met my reaction with a smile. He let gently let go of my hand
and placed a big plastic tube around my neck. I didn't know what it
was, or why it was on me. It did nothing to ease the butterflies that
were overflowing in my stomach and up through my body. While holding
me still with one hand, and cutting through my seat belt with
another, the man managed to free me from my car seat and pulled me
through the window. He laid me in the wet grass outside of the car.
"Wait
here," he said with a calm and gentle voice.
The
man walked around to my mother's car door and reached in the window.
I could hear his heavy footsteps sloshing in the thick mud that
surrounded the car. A few minutes later he returned to me.
"Where
is my mommy?"
The
man grabbed my hand and held it.
"She's
gonna be fine sweetheart, she's just sleeping."
I
looked at him again with tears in my eyes, as he laid down next to me
on the grass. His navy blue shirt was stained with blood and dirt. He
had mud on his face and pants. His gray hair was caked with sweat and
dirt, but his kind eyes looked at me with intense urgency.
"What's
your name?" He asked.
"Dakota
Ri-Rivers."
"Nice
to meet you Dakota, my name is Officer Grimes."
I
didn't say anything. Laying on my back with hands at my sides, I felt
my brain get heavy again as I gazed openly into the blue sky above
me. It was the first time I realized how beautiful everything was.
The blue sky. The white clouds. The smell of summer air. My eyes
opened and closed slowly, like I was fighting back sleep.
"How
old are you Dakota?"
"Six"
I replied, weakly.
"Well,
you're the bravest six year old I've met"
The
corners of my mouth curved into a twisted smile, as intense pain shot
up the center of my face and behind my forehead. At the top of the
hill, I could hear an ambulance arrive. Officer Grimes shuffled to
his feet and walked over to meet them. Paramedics quickly side
stepped down the hill, pushing a stretcher topped with several bags.
"What
do we have?" A woman paramedic asked, bending down into the mud
next to me.
"Six
year old female, possible partial paralysis." Officer Grimes
said.
I
didn't know what paralysis meant, but I knew it wasn't good.
"Who
was driving?" The second paramedic asked quietly.
Officer
Grimes pulled him aside.
"Possible
DOA," he said under his breath, but still loud enough for me to
hear him.
I
didn't know what that meant either. The woman paramedic stuck me with
a needle and placed a clip over my finger. I could faintly hear beeps
and clicks on the stretcher next to me. She carefully picked me
up and placed me on the stretcher, with the equipment at my feet. I
had no fight left in me. I lost consciousness sometime later to the
image of firemen cutting the top of our mangled car off and placing
my mother on a stretcher. I desperately wanted to call out to her. To
say goodbye and to tell her I loved her. Firefighters covered her
with a white sheet that instantly turned red from her blood and that
was the last time I saw my mother. That was the day my family fell
apart.
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