SHADOWS OF KAYLA

PAIN OF AN ETHEREAL BEING

Kayla.

Perhaps a dream, a nightmare, a joke, a...? How it all looked when the caustic truth dawned on me. The reality blared even without me hearing the words. I was pierced through and through and I felt the real painless dentistry of pain. It was disheartening to the hollow in my chest.

I cried. No visible tears, but I felt them hot from within.

My picture was clear as daylight on the principal's computer screen. As much as I wanted it not to be me, the more I hated knowing it was in fact me. I laughed.

This can't be. It can't be this Kayla, no!

Kayla was there smiling at me in the photo. Her straight short brown hair, pretty freckles, brown eyes, and cute fanny ears. Not this Kayla!

I remembered waking late that morning. Dad woke me up for school. Actually, the noise he made in my room woke me up. I saw him throw something up my closet and I sat up and yawned, wondering what that was.

“Morning dad. What's that?”

“Oh, you're up already. Your mom asked me to keep your school reports here for you. I didn't want to get your room clustered with papers, so I kept them up.”

“Yeah, she told me about that. Thanks, dad.”

“Get ready for school.” He walked to my side and kissed my forehead.

“Off to work now, bye.”

I got downstairs to for breakfast. I complained about mom's omelet being too salty. She apologized and made me another one, better. Tom made fun of me, saying, “You complain because you can't make your omelet.” And I made a face at him.

I remember him telling me I looked like a Chacma with that face. He laughed and spilled hot tea on my new school skirt in the process. I was more hurt by the stain inflicted on my new skirt, than by the mild burn to my thighs. I knew it was unintentional, but I twisted his right ear in anger. He winced and leered at me, that I was scared of what he would do next. I quickly went to change.

I grabbed my backpack, told mom I was off to school, and headed for the door.

“Bye, Kayla!” Mom answered from the pantry.

I texted Karen.

*where are you?*

Bf is typing...

*Charice*

Bf is typing...

*U?*

*I'm in the B & J, pls wait 4 me.*

*Is Vivian with you?*

Bf is typing...

*Yeah she is. We are waiting at the park behind that old Library*

Bf is typing...

*If we don't see u in the next 3 mins, we'll leave without u.

...ಠωಠ Gilbert is gon give us a hard time.*

*Lol, ikr...*

Bf is typing...

*See ya!*

I walked faster, those two would really leave me if I didn't get there in time. I rushed across the road without looking and a car hit me from nowhere. Actually, I was pretty sure I was looking, yes. I was flung to the other side of the road, but I got up and quickly dusted my skirt.

Wow, that didn't hurt, I thought.

I was so foolish to not have realized that it really should have hurt. Even when Tom spilled tea on me earlier, it hurt!

I ran to the park and I saw Karen and Vivian already on their way to school. I called and yelled, but they didn't hear me. How would they have?

Then school. Then the Principal's office. Then the news.

I laughed again. A bitter, grievous laugh which surely would have sung woe if it was heard. Heard by who? I took no time in grabbing the mouse on the desk, I seriously had to scroll for more, but I grabbed nothing but some useless chunk of air. I was a pretty bigger chunk of nothing.

Need I spell the frustration? Need I print the hurt in bold? Need I number the shattered pieces? Need I?

I grabbed a handful of my hair and screamed with everything else this wicked life had left of me. I sulked for a long while and am still.

Man, I had dreams, big dreams. I thought I would become a Pilot or maybe a musician someday. I had friends, good and bad. I had enemies, those I had really nasty plans for. Most painful of all, I had a family. A trio I loved dearly. A mom I chatted with a lot, a dad who was just as silly as I was, and a brother...well, he had been more of a pain in the behind than a good sibling, but we were used to each other. We cared for each other without saying it.

Everything was gone. Nothing was left. My dreams, my hopes, and my life, they were all gone.

It seriously would have been better if I died and wasn't left to see how things were after my death.

After realizing all that happened, I ran back home. I wasn't surprised that I met mom and dad at home. Dad told all the mourners to leave. Mom kept crying and crying. She fainted twice. She was then taken to the hospital. When mom was taken away, dad cried his eyes out.

Minutes later I saw two trucks drive into our compound. I later realized they were movers.

Why are we moving? Why are they moving?

Dad picked Tom up from his school that morning and took him to our new house...their new house. Tom found the whole thing so difficult, that he threw fits for a few days. The situation still angered him though.

I however wondered what dad and mom had told Tom, and how they did it. He didn't complain or cry anymore when they moved to a new house. It was later I realized the lie they told Tom about me being on scholarship somewhere. I thought it would be better if they told him about my demise since he probably wanted me dead. It was after a few days he started asking about me. He drove them right up the wall that they had to hire some girl to act like me over the phone.

You might consider it a weird thing, but Tom could really die of shock. He's had some major heart surgeries as a little kid, in the past and recently. Any devastating news could have cause complications. I was pretty sure Tom wouldn't have been that upset.

My parents went through a lot to hide stuff and mourn my death silently. Later on, dad started acting weird. He told mom he resigned from his job, the second time. He got a new job a few days after, something we knew nothing of. He stopped leaving through the front door and stopped using his car.

Those twenty-three days had been pretty hard for my family, it hurt telling.

I had wanted to get my revenge on whoever was the driver that hit me dead. I remember roaming around the streets trying to find something. But one evening, the police called my dad to inform him that the culprit was found dead in another accident. Apparently, he was drinking and driving like he was, on the same day I died.

My killer was dead, I was not relieved in any way. I didn't understand why I had to be the victim in the first place.

The bruise never healed. The ache never left. The grief only subsided, for a moment though, when my loved ones were near.

In a blink, I was shattered to a million pieces.