It took another hour for rescuers to rescue me from the car. During that hour, they covered my father with sheets, not to protect me from seeing him, but it was too late. They did this because they couldn't bear to see his ruined body, especially in front of his nervous and a little disturbing little daughter.
I didn't cry that day, nor will I ever be. I didn't speak either. When I heard the sound of my father’s blood dripping on the roof, I did not talk about what I saw, the feeling of being imprisoned, and unable to break free. I didn't talk about his painful groans, the groans he tried to suppress me, which haunted me every moment.
I didn't mention the terrible silence and desolation that enveloped me when those moans had ceased. All that was left for me was the dripping blood and the shocking realization that my father was gone. Before he leaves me, I can't tell him again that I love him. I didn't tell anyone about this, not even my mother, she even cared more about my happiness because of her grief than her own.
This is the main reason why I didn't cry. I don't want her to know how badly I have been hurt, how badly I have been tortured. I want her to believe that I am strong and I will be fine. I want her to believe that no matter what happens, she doesn't have to worry about me. I'm very good. I am brave. I will survive, no matter how upset and broken I was.
Until the day of the funeral, I finally cried, and thankfully my mother didn't go to see it. But Cade.
The funeral is over, but I still wear the little black dress that my mother chose for me. Abby and Aiden, also wearing black clothes, were not as stoic as I was during the whole ceremony. They cried publicly. I didn't cry, people didn't miss me, at the reception after I became the main topic. Although they whispered and thought they had reservations about me, I did not leave as they thought.
I didn't hear everything clearly, but I saw enough information to know that their silence was not sincere, it was just more gossip to make them joking. Do I have any questions? Did the accident ruin me? Have I always been a cold child? So far, have they managed to ignore my weirdness, and this is so obvious
I slipped out of the house, eagerly trying to escape from the sultry heat of the house and their false concern. There is a big and beautiful garden on the right side of the house. My mother had to sell it the next year. The garden has always been the pride and joy of the mother. It is full of flowers, exotic plants, and the attractive fragrance of roses and lavender. In the back corner, under the drooping branches of a huge willow tree, there is a wooden bench hidden. I walked to the bench.
I sat there for several hours, with my hands folded across my chest, watching the bees buzzing and flying lazily, and the butterflies flying around here. I try not to think about anything, try not to collapse under the weight of grief, because it threatens to swallow me. I don't know how long I sat there before I felt the presence of other people. I raised my head and blinked at the sun falling in the sky. It took a few seconds before I recognized the little boy walking into the garden; when I recognized Cade, I was taken aback.
Until a few years ago, Cade had been a good friend of Aiden and I have always liked him. Unlike Aiden's other friends, he never tried to push me away, never scolded me, didn't find me annoying, or tried to get rid of me. He always invites me to play with them, always very friendly and gentle. He showed endless patience with me, even though he taught me how to fish, and I insisted on throwing them all back. Aiden protested strongly. Cade just did what I said, without a complaint, and no empathetic smile. This smile has melted my young heart.
Then, when I was seven and Cade was eight, his parents were killed in an out-of-control looting. When the murder happened, Cade was lucky to be at a friend's house. Years later, he was sent to a foster family. Although he still lives in our town, he no longer lives near us. His friendship with Aiden ended abruptly in 2017, and he does not come to our house almost every day. He has become alienated and unfriendly to us because he has been going forward coldly and methodically all his life. At his parents' funeral, when I tried to express to him my sympathy for the loss of his loved one, this caring friend I knew and loved so much ignored me. After that I tried to talk to him twice, but he walked past me. Rejected and confused, I have given up trying to reach him.
Then, two years later, Cade and two parents left, me and one, he suddenly stood in front of me. He is taller and thinner than when he came to my house last time. He has become one of the most handsome and popular boys in school. However, it was not this person standing in front of me in the garden. This person is different. This person is not just a boy, not anymore. I understand now that although Cade still looks like a child, he is no longer a child. Two years ago, when his parents were taken away from him so viciously, he became a man. Fate had already arranged him not to suffer, but his unexpectedly wise eyes were still full of longing and sadness.
For the first time, I understood why Cade stopped laughing, stopped laughing, stopped talking, stopped playing with us. I understand that although I might do these things again one day, I will never do it the way I did four days ago. For the first time, I understood that although Abby and Aiden also lost their parents, they did not share what I did with CapitaLand. They should have died, but they don't have to live with the burden of being spared.
My brothers and sisters don't want them to be at home either, so maybe they can stop this like Cade. They never hope that they can tell our father about the deer in advance, before it is too late to stop. They will never feel guilty for being a survivor, even though they shouldn't. We should not do this.
In a beautiful early summer, Cade sat next to me, bathed in faint sunlight. We didn't speak for an hour, and then slipped away for two hours. The sunset illuminates the sky with countless beautiful colors that should be exhilarating, but somehow it only makes me sad. My father never saw such a beautiful fall. I shouldn't see it there, but I am there.
Cade seemed to feel my growing pain, his finger slipped into my finger, and something began to ease in my body. I feel like at home, when he is holding me by my side, I no longer feel ashamed and sad. For the first time in so many days, I didn't feel guilty or swallowed by self-hatred. I didn't close my eyes and saw my father's broken body. The nightmares that make me scream and wake up silently every night don't look so bad now. With him holding my hand, I don't think I will collapse. If I go in the wrong direction, it will shatter like a piece of falling glass. This was the first time, and I almost felt a little calm again.
"It's okay to cry." The sun crossed the horizon, and his voice softened.
This is the first and last time I have done this. I did not sob loudly, nor did I completely collapse. I did not yell at heaven or destiny as I have been worrying every minute and every second in the past few days. On the contrary, when all the pain and shame kept pouring from my broken heart, I cried silently. He put his arms around me and pulled me to his side. Holding my head, he didn't stop me, didn't tell me everything would be better, and didn't tell me the wrong things that others had said in the past few days. He just hugged me gently, comforting me, in this way I have never been hugged or comforted before.
When night fell, my tears finally subsided, and I lay exhausted beside him. I can feel his ribs pressing stiffly on my cheeks, and hear his heart beating firmly. The cricket came out, and there was an owl calling in the distance. Although the weather was getting colder, we did not move. I need him and his understanding. I must know that I am not as disgusted as I feel. In those moments, I need him more than ever. I will not be the first to leave.
It took another hour before the front door of my house opened and the light was spilling on the large porch. People kept leaving all day, but no one noticed that we were hiding under the willow tree. There are still a few cars in the driveway, but I know that it is not their owners who have come out now.
"Bethany! Are you outside?" I longed to hide and sleep safely in Cade's arms. The last thing I want to do is to go back to that house, with those loving memories, with reminders of those lost things, with those enclosed spaces that seemed threatening to me after a car accident. "Bethany, where are you?"
Her hysterical voice awakened me from the cocoon of understanding and support. She just lost her husband and she was afraid of losing me. I didn't understand at that time, but my mother already knew that I was standing on a thin cliff and was about to collapse from below me. She was worried that she would lose me forever, she didn't know how to prevent it from happening, only Cade had it.
"Bethany!"
"Here, mother!" I yelled, unable to bear the thought of her crying again, at least not crying for me. However, she has cried for me many times. "I'm here!"
"Where?"
"Garden. I'll be here soon!"
She didn't call me again, but she didn't go in either. She was standing at the door, waiting patiently for her unhappy and sad child. Cade held my hand tightly, I felt the pain of loss flooding him, regret and sadness captured him. He grabbed the back of my head with his hand. He drew me to his side, kissed my forehead, said goodbye, and made my tears flow down. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)