My Shattered Jug

My Shattered Jug

We could smell the freshly mowed lawn from the morning and hear the chirping of the mother bird calling her chicks home. Rattles of the rusty, metal swing slowing down could be heard, for the children started to return to their places of abode, accompanied by the sun who was slowly sinking under the omnipotent hills. Soft and warm was the feeling of the picnic mat we sat on with the evening gust blowing on our faces watching the sky painted in purples, blues and pinks that even a blind soul could see its beauty.

That was me before I knew it, I became the blind soul, Iwas also blind. I lost my sight when I was 12 from a car crash. My eyesight wasn’t the only thing that got stolen from me, my parents and 6-month-old brother went too.

It was a trip to our family friend’s house on the hill, my best friend lived there, we were born on the same day, did the same things and dressed the same. Our parents were best buddies, so we were really best friends from the womb to the tomb.
Her name was Leia Khan, and we knew we would spend our whole life together like those before us. The most beautiful girl you would ever see, and if you met her, you were undoubtedly one of the luckiest people to ever live. Hazel eyes, long eyelashes, long wavy jet black hair and the purest soul.

I hadn’t seen her in months after moving into the city because of my dad’s new job, but we had communicated in every way until this day, the one that would be my favourite. It was a lengthy drive, 6 hours with no pauses and we had to leave at 5 in the morning to avoid traffic and get there by noon.
After an hour or so the only things you could see were the many brown and green grass blades, long, dark electric wires from tall, wooden poles and occasionally a few melanistic cows.
Three and a half long hours of power naps, “The Hate U Give”, and “Grease 2” everyone starting bopping to whatever was on the radio, “On your mark ready set let’s go”. NO WAY! Will Smith had been a god of Anaya, and I’s in every way from the moment we took our first breath in those hospital rooms. “Gettin’ jiggy wit it, na na na na na na na nana,”. Every part of my body screamed with elation to the chorus. This moment was a paradise.
“BRAKE!”. Too late. A sudden thrust forward, I saw shards of glass flying everywhere, large white bags ejecting towards my screaming mother and petrified father. And that was the last of what I saw after the sharpest pain I had ever known. The next thirty seconds were the most traumatic yet eventful time of my living.

I jolted awake in a cold room surrounded by the whispers of many, both foreign and familiar feelings. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the lighting or whatever it was, but I still couldn’t see burning stings and pricks filled my eyes and brai􀀈 the several times I attempted to blink and the many questions I had didn’t assist with that. “Aliya! You’re awake!” I felt a hug, the only thing that gave me comfort and warmth compared to absolutely everything else.

Leia, my lord, please help me, I can’t see an- and everything hurts and-‘
“Aliya, let me get someone to help you, I’m so glad you’re okay, make sure you sit back, don’t injure yourself any further.”
I had figured that I was injured, I mean I couldn’t see at all, but I felt it was presumably just temporary anaesthesia. “Hey, Aliya! I’m Dr.Rhuharb, How are you feelin’?” The voice was distantly recognised but I couldn’t grasp it, firm and sincere but a homely touch to it.
“To be honest, I’m in a lot of pain … “, the more she thought about it, the more pain she felt in different parts of her body. ” … everywhere.”
“You’re a miracle child, almost no one makes it alive, during a car cra-“
“Wait- I’m so confused, where are my parents? Where is my brother? Why can’t I see? My head hurts! What happened?” So many questions which I wanted all the answers to.
Heavy footsteps could be heard coming through some doors that provided a gust of wind, causing the hairs at the back of my neck to stand up. “Aliya, glad you’re okay,” I knew the voice too well, a second father, second most important.
[Police: Three members of a family of four killed in a fatal car accident, only twelve-year-old daughter, Aliya Singh, to live]

“Uncle Johan?!”
“I’m so sorry Aliyah, we wanted to tell you in the best way possible, and I guess that was a way for you to find out yourself, a nasty one but still a way. Aunty Maya was too devastated about your mom to come right now but don’t worry, you’re gonna stay with us until we know what to do.”

I can’t even see them?”

Dr Rhuharb spoke again. “That’s the other thing, in the duration of the car crash, multiple pieces of glass went into your eyes and cut many layers which cannot be mended again. Unfortunately, that implies you are visually impaired”.
It was at that moment my soul emptied, the jug of life I had had been hit over and shattered. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react. I had become a blind soul.
*time pause of 3 months*
Someone that you used to know better than yourself but now seems like someone you don’t understand at all is called a stranger. Leia Khan was now a stranger. I had moved to a different home with a foster family with two foster parents almost old enough to be called elderly and a golden retriever named Horlicks. I found myself still going to public school for the money required to go to one where there were more children of my type wasn’t available. They provided me with meals and a bed, but there wasn’t a sense of family, I lived in a house, not a home.
School wasn’t any better, getting messages to ‘kill myself’ every few days didn’t help much. I thought about it a lot, to be honest, I had no one except for a shaggy hound. My father had always said, “We’re good people that love each other dearly, we will always be united.”.
I thought about it every day, but even then I found myself waking up to the same cold room, eating the same cereal and toast, wearing the same uniform and being driven in the same car to the same schoolhouse. There I would get the same amount of threats and get my cane kicked over the same extent of times, and I would struggle the same amount in every class. I would get picked up, shower in the same cubicle, do my homework, which thank the heavens, could be purchased in braille, ate dinner at the same table. Ultimately, I seriously thought about taking my own life while weeping in silence until I fall asleep just to wake up and do it all again.
It had been three months, and I still hadn’t moved on, I missed the memories from when I could see, being able to love and laugh with people I knew and understood. Back when everything hadn’t been kidnapped from me.
The sequence repeated daily, which became weekly which became monthly, I couldn’t find happiness, as hard as I tried to refill that jug, there seemed to be a hole at the bottom which forbid the jug to fill at all.

With every foreboding tick, my arm would get battered by the devilish bruises and cuts from my thoughts. I never wore dresses or shorts anymore. There was always the speculation of me piercing an artery or vein. Some days I really wanted to, but I held myself back.

And then one day I did it.

What did it fix? Nothing, my jug was still shattered. I would never be able to hear the freshly mowed lawn of the morning and hear a mother bird’s calls to her children. I would never be able to listen to the rattles of an old swing slowing down or feel a gust of cold wind blowing past my face. I wouldn’t be able to see the sun set on the hills while the sky was painted in blues, purples and pinks. I wouldn’t be able to live again. It wasn’t worth it.

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