The Lost
589 Words
Chapter 1: The lost
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Jennifer Jones’s POV
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Bang.
“NO—!”
I jolted awake, my scream tearing out of my throat as if I were still trapped inside the nightmare.
Not again.
My chest burned as I dragged in air, one shaky breath after another. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape. I pushed my tangled hair away from my face with trembling fingers, grounding myself in the present— cold sheets, dim light, silence.
Oh God… one day these nightmares will kill me.
Years have passed since that accident. Years. And yet the memories remain untouched by time, sharp as shattered glass. They don’t fade. They wait. And the moment I allow myself to breathe, they strike—stealing everything I’ve managed to rebuild in a single heartbeat.
My happiness.
My family.
My parents.
My entire world.
I lost them in a car accident when I was a child.
I close my eyes, but it’s useless.
The road is already there.
I’m eight years old again, standing on the pavement outside my school gate, my backpack slipping off one shoulder as my eyes search the street. The afternoon sun warms my skin, but excitement buzzes restlessly inside me.
It’s my birthday.
They’re coming to pick me up. We’re going out for lunch—together. They promised me a surprise too, and I remember thinking how perfect this day was going to be.
Lately, they had been busy. Their new business consumed them—calls, meetings, endless schedules. They tried to make time for me, especially on weekends, but I wanted more.
I was greedy.
Greedy for their love.
For their attention.
For them.
So for my birthday, I asked for the most precious thing they could give me.
Their time.
No work.
No phone calls.
Just us.
I remember smiling to myself, convinced nothing could ruin this day.
Then I see their car.
“There,” I whisper, my heart leaping.
My father waves at me from the driver’s seat, that familiar smile lighting up his face. My mother waves too, her eyes warm, a small box clutched in her hand.
A box.
Is that the surprise?
Excitement bursts through me. I jump, barely able to contain myself, and run toward them. I hear my father call out—probably telling me not to run—but I don’t slow down.
I never reach the car.
A screech cuts through the air.
A shadow.
Then—
Impact.
Oh God… no.
“D-Dad… M-Mom…!”
The truck slams into their car from behind with a force so violent it doesn’t make sense at first. Their car lifts off the ground, flips once… twice… before crashing down onto the road.
Bang.
The sound tears through me.
Glass explodes.
Metal screams.
The car lands upside down. Windows shatter. Pieces scatter across the road like fragments of a life that was whole just seconds ago.
I stand frozen on the opposite side of the street, watching.
Unable to move.
Unable to breathe.
Road.
My father’s smile.
My mother’s wave.
The mystery box.
The car.
The truck.
Bang.
Darkness.
The images repeat, over and over, until the world tilts beneath my feet.
And then—
I’m falling.
Cold pavement rushes up to meet me as blackness swallows everything.
I gasp, my eyes flying open.
I’m back in my bed.
Alone.
Still breathing.
But the little girl on the pavement never made it past that day.
She stayed there.
- Writer
