Page 4 of Roses and Skulls

Tears stream down my cheeks as I turn my head slightly to look at him. He gives me a small smile. “Do you hear the wind chimes?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

“Wind chimes are whispers from Heaven.” He smiles and closes his eyes.

I reach over and shake him. He blinks at me. “I can’t hear them, grandpa,” I say as carefully as I can, afraid of the sound of my own voice.

“I hear them, baby. They’re calling me home.”

“No,” I cry.

He smiles again. “Don’t be afraid. Your dad will be here soon. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.” He takes my hand in his and squeezes as tight as he can. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too,” I choke out.

“Shh, don’t cry, sweetheart. Don’t they sound beautiful?” He looks at me as if he can see right through me.

I watch his eyes drop closed. He doesn’t speak to me again nor does he move. I pull my hand out of his and frantically try to get the seatbelt off me. I want out. I need out!

Black spots dance on the edge of my vision. I must fall asleep because I wake to the sound of roaring bikes and then a roar of a different sort. My dad. The sound he makes is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s the howl of a wounded animal, a haunting sound that could wake the dead.

He came, just like grandpa said he would. My head lulls to the side so I can see if Grandpa hears him too. Maybe I’m hallucinating like grandpa was with the chimes. He must be sleeping; his eyes are still closed.

I’m cold. So cold.

My dad appears, struggling to open my door with a crowbar. He tries with all his might to pull it open, but the metal is too mangled. My Uncle Dan urges him to stop. “Let the first responders do their job, Dirk. They’ll get her out.”

It’s then they notice I’m awake. “Baby,” my dad cries. He cradles my face in his hands. I close my eyes, drifting once again. Nothing hurts now, everything is going to be okay. I open my eyes to tell him that but red and blue lights flash over his face and I see how scared he is. My dad is never scared, never.

Men in big yellow coats come to his side and drag him away. No, don’t go!Dad, don’t go! I want to scream but I can’t.

More men come. They tell me they are going to get me out of the vehicle. Help grandpa first I want to say. And they do. They pull him out and then a man slides in beside me and covers me with a blanket. He stays with me, keeping the blanket held up in front of my face to keep the flying glass and metal from hitting me as they slowly cut grandpa’s pickup away from me.

When they slide me onto a board, I stare at the stars. They seem so close. My hand rises to reach out and touch them. Something is different. I can’t place my finger on it but they’re more beautiful, brighter maybe.

I drift to sleep again, so tired I just can’t keep my eyes open. The next time I open them, we are moving. My dad is here now. He’s holding my hand as strangers hook me up to all kind of scary things. He’s crying. Which scares me more than anything. Why is he crying? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry.

And then a nothingness swallows me.

When I regain consciousness, I notice something smells funny and my nose tickles. I blink awake slowly. My dad is sitting on the edge of my bed, his face buried in his hands. Mom is sleeping on a little couch in front of big windows and my cousin, Jackson, is asleep in a chair on the other side of me. His boots kicked up on the end of the bed.

What? Where are we? I try to scoot up, alerting my dad that I’m awake.

He turns to me, his eyes swollen and red. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. Don’t try to get up, you need to rest.” He brushes my hair away from my face.

I open my mouth to speak but he stops me. “Shh, don’t try to talk. You just had surgery on your throat. It’s going to take some time.” He offers me a forced smile.

That’s right, I remember, grandpa and I were in an accident. My eyes lock on dad’s,grandpa, where is grandpa?

“Oh, baby girl, all I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you from getting hurt. I didn’t do a particularly good job, did I?” he says, his eyes roaming over the monitors beside me.

I hold my hand up and motion for something to write with. Reluctantly, he hands me a small pad and a pen. Two words.Where’s grandpa?

He closes his eyes and when they open, he doesn’t have to tell me. His gaze says it all. He’s gone. Grandpa Bill is gone.

I shove the paper and pen back to him and close my eyes, wanting nothing more to do with this new world. A burning sensation builds and builds in my chest, threating to explode.

No one prepared me for this. Not only does my body feel pain, but my soul is slowly drowning in it.

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