"Was in accident. Car wrecked. Home now."
The screen burned into my eyes, still crusted from the sleep I'd been jolted awake from.
It was only seven words.
Seven words that changed the world.
It only took seconds for my body to register what my brain is still struggling to process. Within a heartbeat, the bile had risen to my throat- its bitter metallic taste bursting like a volcano through my body. Tears began to overflow from the confines of my eyelids. My body, literally exploding from emotion.
A car wrecked.
There are no words...
I've felt this way only once before. I was 21. It was December 16th, 2002, and I was called out of a final exam to take a call from my eldest brother, calling from a province away.
"Dad is dead."
Three words that changed the world.
The sound of them was deafening.
Instantly, the world got dark and blurry, and a thin, nauseating taste of iron filled my mouth.
There are no words.
After that, I don't remember much, except falling to the ground, as consciousness escaped me.
It has a taste.
It has a smell.
It has a life of its own.
And despite the knowledge that she is safe, my brain and body know no rest.
I almost lost my mother last night.
And the thought of that takes my breath away...