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Bitter Night
Tragedy
 Created on 7-5-07
 Views(33)
 Story Rating G
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“Why?” Jayla Bernard sobbed, “Why me? Why all at once?” Tears streaked down her pale face, creating rivers of crystal as she reclined her head on the headrest.
“Why me?” she repeated silently.
While she sulked, her mother’s old van belched down a forgotten road, jolting her thoughts and chattering her teeth. She continued to sob, as she had been for the past two weeks. The recent events played by in her mind, her little brother, Devin, who had been fighting cancer, passed away during therapy; he had just stopped breathing. The event had caused her household a lot of stress and grief, which caused the fights, which lead to the divorce that shattered her life.
Now, since her father (Joe) had moved out, her mother (Katrina) was driving Jayla to his house for the weekend in one of those white-out Connecticut snowstorms. Sighing, she rested her head against the icy window while squinting to see past the white mass outside.
Then, as soon as you can blink an eye, the snow cleared and a sight appeared that froze the tears on her face and chilled the marrow in her bones. The car’s dim headlights picked up two hazel eyes and a mop of blonde hair up ahead. A nose, mouth, and short body fell under. “Devin,” Jayla whispered, unbelieving, “Three year old Devin…” she continued, “Could I be hallucinating?”
The boy teetered back and forth, back and forth – sending a voice to ring within Jayla’s memories, “Jay-Jay,” it pleadingly sang, “Jaaay-Jaaay!”
Tears came fresh to Jayla’s eyes, “No, Devin… you’re dead,” she whimpered. At this her mother loked at her sharply! Of couse, she was still tender about it and didn't want to keep hearing about it! Jayla didn't even feel the slap to the back of her head, it was just delivered by her livid mother and then over and done with.
The car inched closer to the boy; it was about six feet away. The boy looked at Jayla once more, and then smiled a sticky sweet little boy grin; it wasn’t comforting either. It was evil, a smile of death’s cold chill. Then with a sickening “thud” it fell onto the road, right in front of the van.
Reality came back in a hot rush, re-introducing speed and warmth. Tears clouded Jayla’s sight, and all she saw was a lump in front of the van. “NO!!!!” Jayla shrieked she couldn’t loose her brother again; she couldn’t let her mom run over him! In her mind he wasn't dead, he was there! In front of the van!
Shoving the steering wheel with all her might she caused the car to careen away from the lump she believed to be her brother, and it spun wildly over the road’s icy surface. Shescreamed and her mother let out a stream of curses, convinced it was the end. With its terrified passengers, the van spun on the icy road, until it hit a tree on the side of the road. They heard an ear-popping “WHOOP!” as a tire exploded, then (from the force) the car flipped, followed by a mighty “CRACK!”
A fire emerged under the hood, heating the chilly air. “Jay-Jay,” she heard the voice one last time, “Jay-Jay,” and this time it was crying and she had to help it! She wriggled over to the colapsing window and tried to wiggle out. Ignoring her strangley silent mother and gasping at the burns crawling over her body she kept foucusing on getting out! She had to help Devin, and she coudn't die! Not yet! Desperatley she clawed her way out, tears ever present.
Almost free of the death trap, then the fire reached the gas tank and the van exploded with a single scream that stirred even the falling snow.
The next night investigators told Joe (her dad) that, when the car flipped over, the engine had been overheated and it lit on fire, after the gas tank cracked. That had lead to the explosion that they believe killed both passengers - they had only found Katrina's roasted body. They had also said that Katrina had drove carelessly and that had caused the car to flip. Joe didn’t believe it, Katrina was the most paranoid driver he knew.
About one week later he went to the death/crash scene to check it out for himself, he felt that the investagators were being all too vauge with him. He walked to the middle of the road where there was an odd-shaped log stump lying on the ground. Kicking it over so it faced up his eyes widened in shock. It was a crude carving of a three year old boy. At the bottom of it there was a platform that read, “R.I.P Jack, killed by this road,” it was a headstone, for a grave.
“The wind must have blown this into the road during the storm,” he reasoned, “and Katrina swerved to miss it and the car spun out and flipped over,” he realized.
With this solution he stared to walk home, but something made him feel uneasy, like something was missing. Turning around he saw the carving staring right at him, smile plastered on, and within his head he heard a pleading voice call, “Daddy, Daddy…”
- thanks for reading! Be sure to check out Part Two!
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