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Authors: Barbara Copperthwaite
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flesh.
So, she has had the dream again. She has relived that bloody accident time and time again in her sleep, sometimes hating it, sometimes loving it because for a few sweet moments at the start, it is as if her family is alive again. Her mind has always skittered away from the aftermath of the accident though. Now, she forces herself to remember waking in hospital.
Her Aunt Linda had been by her side. One look at her face had told Laura everything she needed to know. Her family was dead. Laura was kept in overnight for observation because she had concussion, but the next day she was deemed well enough to be released.
People had told her it was a miracle that she had survived. As if she was some kind of chosen one. As if she must have deserved the miracle when her parents and brother had not.
The truth, she knew, was that if she had not frozen, they might all have survived. She could have pulled them out in time. Or she could have called for help earlier to douse the flames.
At the joint inquest, experts agreed it was just one of those terrible things. That her father, Seamus, fifty, had done nothing wrong but had simply hit some black ice and the whole incident was a tragic accident.
The car had hit the hedge side on and bounced off it, flipping over and landing upside down in a field, burying itself in frozen earth as hard as iron, and the front of the car smashing into a tree. Seamus had braced himself for impact, straightening his arms against the steering wheel and sitting up straighter. The impact had shuddered up his arms, shattering all the bones, and when the car flipped onto its roof and was caved in, it smashed into his head, creating catastrophic injuries and snapping his neck. The only comfort was that it had been instant.
Her mum, Jackie, forty-eight, had died on impact, too, from multiple injuries that included a ripped aorta, like Princess Diana.
Experts agreed Marcus would have died of his injuries too. Laura remembered the groan though, and knew he had survived the crash. It was her lack of action that had killed him, she was certain.
The whole thing was her fault – they had only been going out at all because she loved bonfire night and fireworks so much.
Yet Laura was the one who had walked away with barely a scratch. The only mark she bore was a scar down the back of her thumb, which was shaped like an exclamation mark. Accident experts at the inquest said that her hunkering down to shield herself from the shattering glass had saved her life. Because she had been low down, the roof had not hit her when it caved in. That white van man had saved her life when he had smashed into her a handful of weeks before.
Laura had wished he had not. She had longed to be with her family.
Ever since, she had been in a limbo. Not wanting to die but not wanting to live either, sitting on the fence and not caring if something blew her over to death so that she can be with her loved ones and the guilt could end.
She had given up on her studies to become a nursery nurse. What was the point? In fact, she had told herself there was no point to anything. Making plans was a waste of time when everything could be taken from you in a split second.
She pulls down the long-sleeve of her favourite forest green t-shirt, her last present from Marcus, and uses it to dab at her damp face. Gives a shuddering sigh, then forces herself to stand and shakily walk to the bed, where she sinks down again.
After the accident she had sold the family home she had inherited, unable to stay there with all the memories, and bought herself a little flat. The only thing she had not put into storage was the bed, which had been her 18 th birthday present from her parents. She had felt so grown up asking for this glorious thing, which she had fallen in love with when they were at an antiques fair one day.
It was the only thing from her life before. Everything else she had bought from Ikea in the space of just three trips – it wasn’t
So, she has had the dream again. She has relived that bloody accident time and time again in her sleep, sometimes hating it, sometimes loving it because for a few sweet moments at the start, it is as if her family is alive again. Her mind has always skittered away from the aftermath of the accident though. Now, she forces herself to remember waking in hospital.
Her Aunt Linda had been by her side. One look at her face had told Laura everything she needed to know. Her family was dead. Laura was kept in overnight for observation because she had concussion, but the next day she was deemed well enough to be released.
People had told her it was a miracle that she had survived. As if she was some kind of chosen one. As if she must have deserved the miracle when her parents and brother had not.
The truth, she knew, was that if she had not frozen, they might all have survived. She could have pulled them out in time. Or she could have called for help earlier to douse the flames.
At the joint inquest, experts agreed it was just one of those terrible things. That her father, Seamus, fifty, had done nothing wrong but had simply hit some black ice and the whole incident was a tragic accident.
The car had hit the hedge side on and bounced off it, flipping over and landing upside down in a field, burying itself in frozen earth as hard as iron, and the front of the car smashing into a tree. Seamus had braced himself for impact, straightening his arms against the steering wheel and sitting up straighter. The impact had shuddered up his arms, shattering all the bones, and when the car flipped onto its roof and was caved in, it smashed into his head, creating catastrophic injuries and snapping his neck. The only comfort was that it had been instant.
Her mum, Jackie, forty-eight, had died on impact, too, from multiple injuries that included a ripped aorta, like Princess Diana.
Experts agreed Marcus would have died of his injuries too. Laura remembered the groan though, and knew he had survived the crash. It was her lack of action that had killed him, she was certain.
The whole thing was her fault – they had only been going out at all because she loved bonfire night and fireworks so much.
Yet Laura was the one who had walked away with barely a scratch. The only mark she bore was a scar down the back of her thumb, which was shaped like an exclamation mark. Accident experts at the inquest said that her hunkering down to shield herself from the shattering glass had saved her life. Because she had been low down, the roof had not hit her when it caved in. That white van man had saved her life when he had smashed into her a handful of weeks before.
Laura had wished he had not. She had longed to be with her family.
Ever since, she had been in a limbo. Not wanting to die but not wanting to live either, sitting on the fence and not caring if something blew her over to death so that she can be with her loved ones and the guilt could end.
She had given up on her studies to become a nursery nurse. What was the point? In fact, she had told herself there was no point to anything. Making plans was a waste of time when everything could be taken from you in a split second.
She pulls down the long-sleeve of her favourite forest green t-shirt, her last present from Marcus, and uses it to dab at her damp face. Gives a shuddering sigh, then forces herself to stand and shakily walk to the bed, where she sinks down again.
After the accident she had sold the family home she had inherited, unable to stay there with all the memories, and bought herself a little flat. The only thing she had not put into storage was the bed, which had been her 18 th birthday present from her parents. She had felt so grown up asking for this glorious thing, which she had fallen in love with when they were at an antiques fair one day.
It was the only thing from her life before. Everything else she had bought from Ikea in the space of just three trips – it wasn’t
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