The Pain of Silence

I remember running. I was running as fast as I physically could, even though I already knew from the start that it wasn't fast enough. But I just didn’t care. I remember cursing at myself for not being able to catch up with this little 3 feet tall creature. I yelled at her, I screamed her name in pure anger and to my surprise the toddler froze in her step. That's the last thing I remember before it all went black.

It felt like I had been hit by a car. That I had literally been flung over the hood, vaulted through the air, my body twisting and turning in every way possible. Opening my eyes, taking in that I was actually on the ground in the middle of the road, I realized that maybe that was exactly what I had done.

Turning over, my eyes immediately searched for the little girl in her white jacket. When I found her, the whole universe stopped. I just knew that that was it. I couldn’t even make myself turn her over. I already knew that I hadn’t ran fast enough. I’d known that before I woke up face down in the asphalt.

Time stood still. I had so many thoughts running through my head that I could barely make them out.

I remembered Teddy. He would probably end up sitting on the sofa for a few years and then end up in a memorial box in the attic. Maybe someone would hug him once in a while during his years on the sofa, then probably frenetically, while crying and cursing at God. He’d never experience those loving hugs again. Hugs from a child who had picked him over all the other toys when they went on vacation, who believed that he would protect her from all the monsters under her bed and who would always offer him the last piece of candy even though he would never take it.

I had told her that he didn’t want to go outside today because of the rain. Out of all the days, today was the day that Teddy had wanted to be there with the person who loved him the most. Instead, the favourite stuffed bear was sitting all alone on the hallway furniture, now waiting for someone who was never going to come.

I had managed to crawl a few feet on my hands and knees, now hovering over the small body. Turning her over, I still hadn’t noticed all the people that had gathered around us in the street.

The universe started turning again, but it was too fast. I sat there with this lifeless little body in my arms, a car’s high beam blinding me. There was blood everywhere. I’d never had a problem with seeing blood before but now it felt like I was about to throw up or faint, but maybe it was from shock or the fact that I had hit my head.

The most horrible silence hung in the air. No one at the scene had dared to utter a single word. I realized I would have to attend a third child funeral in the short span of five years. I hated those tiny little coffins. And as I was thinking how I liked the white coffins the best, the most beautiful sound in the world was heard.

She started crying.