History Project

I hadn't been crying. I cry at sad films and when I'm arguing and once at an advert for gluten free food. But somehow the situation was beyond tears. It was beyond all feelings.

It was the longest night of my life.

It was longer than the night my best friend decided we should stay up all night watching films, even though my usual bed time was nine and my eyes could not focus on the red glow of the digital clock at two in the morning. It was longer than any night I'd stayed up with her after she broke up with a boyfriend, and any night she stayed up with me after I'd broken up with a girlfriend. It was longer than the one and only time I tried to stay up all night to revise for a test, only to sleep through my alarm and miss it anyway.

I don't quite remember the way I waited.

I was fifteen.

I remember sitting on a chair with metal legs and a blue cushioned seat. It was strange; I'd always expected hospital chairs to be plastic. Plastic wipes clean. But we were in a special room set aside for those waiting with their heart in their mouths. My eyes were stinging and dry. I hadn't been crying, I remember that. I cry at sad films and when I'm arguing and once at an advert for gluten free food. But somehow the situation was beyond tears. It was beyond all feelings.

My limbs ached in a sort of penetrating pain which had spread from my tired muscles into my bones. I was grasping something in my hands. I think it was a drink. Water or tea. I can't remember if it was hot or cold. It was just there.

I was staring at the wall. There was a drip of blue paint raised above the almost smooth surface.

I remember looking at some moving lips.

"We tried our best but unfortunately Isabelle didn't make it." A doctor said. He was speaking to her parents.

I understood all of the words but I couldn't understood how they made sense together.

Her mum made a pitiful sob.  It burned to the centre of my soul. 

"You can go and see her soon, if you'd like?"

The quietness of the room filled up my head. I could see the doctor and Bella's dad talking but I couldn't tell what they were saying.

I was holding something in my hands. It was something round. Like a cup.

The doctor started to leave.

"I'd like to see her." I called. "I have an idea for our history project. She'll want to know."

Bella's dad sat down on the chair next to me. I looked at the butterfly stitches on his head. He was remarkably unscathed, considered how bad the accident had been.

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Helena, the project isn't important. Bella is..." He stopped, and swallowed, like there was something in his throat. "She's gone."

I felt a wave of frustration. It was the first thing which had felt solid all night. "You're not making any sense, Steven." I said. "We were just in the car together." Now my eyes started to pool with tears. I felt like a child who'd suddenly become an adult. Confused and scared and ever so small.

I winced as Steven let out what sounded like a sob. But it couldn't be a sob; this was a cheerful man who ran around the garden with his daughter on his shoulders and a grin on his face. He couldn't be sobbing.

Bella's mother, Katherine - the woman who had treated me like a second daughter since I was six, who gave me sweets even when my mum decided we were giving up sugar and who gave me the key to her house when Bella kept forgetting hers - sat down on my other side. She pulled me in to her chest and held me close.  I felt warm tears falling on the back of my neck.

"Come on, Helena." she whispered. "We'll go and see her together. We'll tell her about your history project; she'll want to know."

Author's Note

This is the springboard for a longer story I'm writing. It's more for myself as a character development thing for a significant moment of my protagonist's life but I would still like to know what you think.

Reviews

[-holden-]

First, I should like to express my delight at not stumbling over any wizards, dragons, vampires, werewolves, demons or dystopian futures.

The last sentence is "Solid Gold."
That's all I really need to say.