The loud thump of my heart boomed in my ears; one of the only things I could hear as I lay across the ground, body aching with every breath taken. A heavy weight was pushing down on my leg, seizing it from moving. Strands of my short, jet black hair spread across the floor, a strange wet feeling on the underside of my scalp. I blinked. ‘Where am I?’
My thoughts were racing, trying to recall what had happened. What was I doing on the ground? Then I remembered.
“Carmen!”
Eyes widening, I slowly moved upwards, a hoarse gasp ripping from my throat, “Anna...!” I kicked off the object on my leg, turning out to be a rather big suitcase which had fallen on top of it. A throbbing pain seared through my left hip, as if someone had ripped a shard of glass down it, immediately causing me to slap my hand over top of the injury. My bones felt like broken crystals, all poking my skin from the inside; ‘pain’ was an understatement. As I soon stood upright, though leaning to the side due to my hip, I studied my surroundings. Glass was scattered across the train’s floor, reflecting the afternoon’s sun’s sunlight. People lay, small trails of blood dripping down their heads. Some of them didn’t and were moaning in pain. But it was only two or three.
I wasn’t concerned about them at the time; I was concerned about Anna.
My sister who had somehow influenced me into going with her to her home in Dunedin for her birthday with her boyfriend. She was 23. I was only 8 years younger. Having no other way of travel, we wanted to go by train. Though she wasn’t a fan of railways, I was completely content with the way there; I loved trains. They were nice and peaceful, didn’t give me the fear of crashing down into the earth below like a plane would.
Until now.
Memories of the accident flooded into me like a tidal wave. I remember taking a glance at the clock before bodies began swishing about the train, tossed around like toys inside of a baby’s toy box. Suitcases and parcels falling on them, trapping them underneath their hard covers, or just adding more damage. One flew out the window of the cutting as we went, then miraculously came back in. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what happened to him.
With staggering movements, I moved around the dead bodies. Ignoring the deep, plunging feeling within my stomach. Making me sick. The rotten scent fluttered up my nose, and it was sickly. I took a glance at my thin, white watch around my scratched up wrist. Almost 2:00pm. It was funny how an hour before I was laughing and joking around at my cousin’s anxiety on getting on the train.
It then occurred to me that the train wasn’t standing right, but it was on it’s side. I was pushing past seats, that one still had someone inside, bent a certain way that I had to force myself to stare away to prevent myself from vomiting. I somehow made my way out, dodging shredded exit of the train, the evening sun beaming down on my tattered body. It hurt my eyes, so upon shielding them I noticed.
So many people around me. Red liquid either seeping around them, or their skin a deathly pale. My hand dropped to the side in horror, as one of the body’s hair looked all too familiar to me. Bouncy black curls sprawled out around the figure's skinny white form. The once loud beating of my heart stopped, falling to my knees.If it wasn’t for her one hand, a bracelet around her wrist that read, “DAYNAH”, the name of our kitten at home, I wouldn’t have been absolutely sure it was Anna. My head was racing. And as I was about to... To what? Do something. Arms wrapped around me and yanked me up away from my older sister. Everything else faded away a blur.
So many days passed later. Weeks. Months. Years. The trauma I couldn’t get over. The distress we felt every time we would walk through into a room, expecting the optimistic female to be there to greet us with a smile; she wouldn’t be there. The tears would sprout as we realized, with agony that; she never would be again.
((Notgoodatwriting))
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