What Kills Us Does Not Make Us Stronger
I awaken; warm, clean, and staring into a thick white fog. As I gain focus I begin to hear the whispers.
“Wha . . . go . . . on.” They weren’t whole words, just enough to make me wonder who they are. “Wha . . . bout . . . Lana?” Now the whispers sound scared for someone named Lana, I wonder if she’s ok.
“I think I’ll take a walk, Whispers, but I’ll try to find my way back to you,” I say.
As I wander I wonder how I got here, but I can’t seem to remember. I don’t even know who I am. When I start to panic the fog thins and I can sort of see faces. Some concerned, but one who I think I know looks as panicky as I feel. That is, till the pain hits. A sharp pain in my chest, and suddenly I like the solid fog a lot better than this other place, and slowly as I relax the pain goes away and the thick white fog returns.
The Whispers sound even more stressed out than before, but further away too. “Sh . . . ca . . . d . . . .”
I don’t catch as much as I did before, but I wonder if the voice belongs to the panicked face. I wish I knew what was happening then maybe I could help the poor tortured soul.
“OW!” I exclaim. While thinking I had unwittingly stumbled over a chair and fallen. As I stand the fog, in front of me becomes solid and darkness pushes in on all other sides. So I sit in the chair and watch a name appear on the fog screen; Lana Evelyn McAlester. The name is followed by a picture of a girl and a quick bio; age 18, born 12/6/93, hight 5’ 10”, weight 180 lbs., hair strawberry blonde, eyes blue, condition: CRITICAL.
I wonder who she is and why I’m seeing this when the picture changes to images of her with other people. Some were with people that looked like parents and grandparents, others looked like her friends. I like those other girls in the photos, they look so nice, Lana, whoever she is must be really lucky to have them. Then I gasp as the slide show of photos stops on one, and I recognize the boy looking so lovingly into her face as one of the faces I saw in the thinner fog, the concerned one. I wonder why I saw his face in my fog unless I know him too.
I start to panic and try to remember, but once again the fog thins and the faces look even more scared and concerned than before I want to reach them, I want to take away their pain. But the pain in my chest is overwhelming and I start to scream. The faces swim and I cannot hear the whispers over the sound of my own screaming.
Slowly the pain recedes and instead of a realm of thick white fog I’m floating above the scene of a car accident. It looks like a truck hit a pedestrian, a girl, the paramedics swarm around her but through the screen of people around her I can see an awful lot of blood. The boy from the picture is being restrained, held back from reaching her side.
“Lana! Lana don’t die! Let me see her! LANA!” he screeches through his tears.
“Calm down sir, everything is under control.” say the police officers holding him back.
I feel for the young man. I hope that Lana will be ok. I can see a piece of paper on the ground with a schedule written on it, apparently they were both on their way to a last rehearsal for graduation tomorrow. I start to cry as I realize that I know them, his name is Jordan, and the bloody girl on the ground is me.
Suddenly I remember what happened, I was crossing the street when that maniac came out of nowhere. I cry out and wish with all my heart not to die. I try to reach out to Jordan to tell him I’m still here, so close it hurts. I start to freak out and when the pain hits, I don’t shrink away, I embrace it.
I wake to bright lights and sirens and for a moment I can .see his face and call his name, “Jordan.” although no more than a whisper passes through my lips. I close my eyes and this time . . . .
I awaken; warm, clean, and staring into a thick white fog. As I gain focus I begin to hear the whispers.
“Wha . . . go . . . on.” They weren’t whole words, just enough to make me wonder who they are. “Wha . . . bout . . . Lana?” Now the whispers sound scared for someone named Lana, I wonder if she’s ok.
“I think I’ll take a walk, Whispers, but I’ll try to find my way back to you,” I say.
As I wander I wonder how I got here, but I can’t seem to remember. I don’t even know who I am. When I start to panic the fog thins and I can sort of see faces. Some concerned, but one who I think I know looks as panicky as I feel. That is, till the pain hits. A sharp pain in my chest, and suddenly I like the solid fog a lot better than this other place, and slowly as I relax the pain goes away and the thick white fog returns.
The Whispers sound even more stressed out than before, but further away too. “Sh . . . ca . . . d . . . .”
I don’t catch as much as I did before, but I wonder if the voice belongs to the panicked face. I wish I knew what was happening then maybe I could help the poor tortured soul.
“OW!” I exclaim. While thinking I had unwittingly stumbled over a chair and fallen. As I stand the fog, in front of me becomes solid and darkness pushes in on all other sides. So I sit in the chair and watch a name appear on the fog screen; Lana Evelyn McAlester. The name is followed by a picture of a girl and a quick bio; age 18, born 12/6/93, hight 5’ 10”, weight 180 lbs., hair strawberry blonde, eyes blue, condition: CRITICAL.
I wonder who she is and why I’m seeing this when the picture changes to images of her with other people. Some were with people that looked like parents and grandparents, others looked like her friends. I like those other girls in the photos, they look so nice, Lana, whoever she is must be really lucky to have them. Then I gasp as the slide show of photos stops on one, and I recognize the boy looking so lovingly into her face as one of the faces I saw in the thinner fog, the concerned one. I wonder why I saw his face in my fog unless I know him too.
I start to panic and try to remember, but once again the fog thins and the faces look even more scared and concerned than before I want to reach them, I want to take away their pain. But the pain in my chest is overwhelming and I start to scream. The faces swim and I cannot hear the whispers over the sound of my own screaming.
Slowly the pain recedes and instead of a realm of thick white fog I’m floating above the scene of a car accident. It looks like a truck hit a pedestrian, a girl, the paramedics swarm around her but through the screen of people around her I can see an awful lot of blood. The boy from the picture is being restrained, held back from reaching her side.
“Lana! Lana don’t die! Let me see her! LANA!” he screeches through his tears.
“Calm down sir, everything is under control.” say the police officers holding him back.
I feel for the young man. I hope that Lana will be ok. I can see a piece of paper on the ground with a schedule written on it, apparently they were both on their way to a last rehearsal for graduation tomorrow. I start to cry as I realize that I know them, his name is Jordan, and the bloody girl on the ground is me.
Suddenly I remember what happened, I was crossing the street when that maniac came out of nowhere. I cry out and wish with all my heart not to die. I try to reach out to Jordan to tell him I’m still here, so close it hurts. I start to freak out and when the pain hits, I don’t shrink away, I embrace it.
I wake to bright lights and sirens and for a moment I can .see his face and call his name, “Jordan.” although no more than a whisper passes through my lips. I close my eyes and this time . . . .
