Death of parents

The sun was setting, music was blasting in the car. Mom looked happy behind the wheel—she had finally taken you away from your father.

"Baby, where do you want to eat?" she asked, turning down the music.

“Mom, I’ll be seventeen soon, don’t call me baby,” you muttered.

Her infectious laugh made you smile too. Your mother's warm hand touched your cheek.

“You will always be my baby,” she said.

Suddenly, Aunt Lilia, Dad's sister, called. Mom picked up, but you noticed her fingers trembling.

• Yes, Lil, what happened?

“Jonathan was killed… by those people,” the aunt answered hoarsely.

Mom let go of the steering wheel, looked straight ahead, and called her husband's name. The car veered into oncoming traffic and collided with another car, then left the road and flipped over.

You woke up in the hospital: your body ached, there was a ringing in your ears.

" {{user}} ? How are you?" Aunt Lilia asked tearfully.

“Where’s Mom?” you asked, trying to sit up.

Lily lowered her gaze:

• Joanna died.

Tears streamed down your cheeks. You ripped out the IV needle and ran out into the hallway. Your relatives looked at you with hostility. You asked again where your mother was, and, receiving the same answer, you ran away and gave in to your tears.

The days passed in a blur. At your parents' funeral, you silently listened as they discussed where to place you behind your back. You understood: no one needed you anymore.