Creative Writing: The Day I Died

The day you heard I died, you were making lunch. You added pepper to to the cheese inbetween your toast, and watched it sink deeper into the yellow puddle. You were stiring baked beans in a pot when the phone rang.

The day you heard I died, you remembered. About the scar on my chin from when I was eight and climbed to the top of a wardrobe. About the way I bit my cheeks when I was nervous. You remembered how when we were younger I always made you check under my bed every night to check for monsters.

The day you heard I died, you were then told I hadn’t. You were told I might survive, but would be paralysed. You were told I’d never run in the park with our neighbours border collie again, with the playground children joining in. You realised I wouldn’t see another sunrise, the deep orange and bright pink canvases I was infatuated with and kept photos of in an album tucked under my bed. You …show more content…
All of you. I heard our mother sob as the doctor told you I might be stuck like this, like a zombie. I heard your voice break when you suggested that it might have been better if I had died. I heard him slam the door as he left, saying he couldn’t bear to see me like this. I heard the boy, rocking in the small plastic chair just outside my room muttering to himself, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault.

The day you heard I died, you wanted to shake me. You wanted to scream at me, to wake up, to do something, anything. You tried to talk some sense into me. You told me about my first week of uni, of all the parties I’d go to, the people I’d meet. You reminded me of how excited I was about the ball, the countless hours I’d spent looking for just the right dress. You reminded me about the border collie, who would walk him now? You watched my unflinching body as the nurses stuck nedles and tubes into me. You realised I’d live, but I’d never be alive again.

The day you heard I died, I hadn’t, but perhaps ended up someplace