White. Red. So much red. Everywhere… dull sounds… bright lights… so much… white….
Everything was hazy. Where am I? I’m being moved… there’s a dull panic in the air. There are voices… so many different voices… yelling, shocked, tense… but they seem so far away… they are loud, they are clear, yet they are muffled and they still make no sense at all. It’s almost as if my head is dunked inside a void of never-ending water and I can hear but not hear at the same time.
What’s going on?
So much red. There was so much red. Splattered, on the white… it was such a big contrast just screaming at me… why? Why was there so much?
God, I’m dead. I think I’m dead. Is this what it’s like? Just fragments of colors in your mind whizzing here and there… faint memories flashing through but not long enough to grasp them… is this what it’s like?
Just confusion… and a lot of unanswered questions?
A blinding pain pumps into my arm. No, definitely not dead. Still alive, apparently. Still feeling. Feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck. God, what happened?
There are dull voices now. Not many. Two, I think. And this time, they are not muffled. My head is clear of all water.
“….out of surgery just a few hours ago. She’s in a comma. Hit her head somehow. There was a bullet in her left arm,”
“Investigators found a gun near the area. It was left carelessly on top of the snow,”
Snow… white… we were outside…
“Apparently, we found no fingerprints. There were no traces of it every being used.”
Guns… shots… loud voices… screams… red… blood….
“We would like to talk to her when she wakes up. To see if she remembers anything that would help with the investigation. If you may-”
“Of course. You will be one of the first to know,”
Family… snow… we were outside… Mum, Dad, Emily and I… we were…
“The sister is conscious. She’s in the ICU – but she’s too traumatized. Give her time,”
Emily… conscious… blood… there was so much… blood…
“Are you sure the gun had no traces of anyone on it?”
Guns… we were outside... playing in the snow when we heard the first shot…
“No, but the father was wounded – a bullet through the chest. It might not have been the same gun…”
There was so much blood… piling around Dad’s lifeless body… Emily screamed… I was yelling…
“Did he make it?”
“No. He was long gone before he entered the hospital.”
I was crying… we both were in hysterics… yelling for help… there was so much blood…
“What about the mother? Where was she?”
So much blood… on the white… the snow… so bright… and… Mum…
“Her body was never found,”
“She’s dead, too?” The voice was surprised.
“That’s what we think. But we found a trail of footprints on the snow…” The voices were going away now. Fading.
I opened my eyes. I was in a hospital room. Through the glass window I saw two men walking away, still talking. The police officer and the doctor.
There was an IV stuck to my arm and my other hurt like hell. I stared sadly at the basket of roses someone kept on the side-table. Roses are red, but blood is too…
And then I closed my eyes, as the vivid memory of dad falling limp on the floor, with shock and disbelief in his eyes, blood pooling around him came… and my mum, standing a few feet away, holding the gun, and pulling the trigger.
Roses are red, but blood is too.
Funny you said, I should be dead, too.
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