Past

Five Years Ago

Audra

My birthday was just around the corner, I was turning eleven and I had begged for a Disney-themed party. Not just one movie, but all of them; I loved them all equally. Sitting beside my best friend Jackie, I flipped through a party catalog, circling decorations and laughing as we joked about whether I'd actually get any of them. My family wasn't poor, but we weren't rich either, so my wishlist was more of a dream than an expectation.

Soon, it was time for school. My mom drove us while Jackie and I sang and danced in the backseat, giggling without a care in the world. My mom smiled at us through the rearview mirror, just before her eyes fluttered shut.

Then everything spiraled.

The car veered off the narrow road, careening into a ditch. Jackie and I screamed, clutching each other as the world flipped upside down. When the car settled, I looked over, my mother was slumped against the steering wheel, unconscious.

Bystanders rushed to help. Strangers pulled us out, voices murmuring reassurances I barely registered. A kind woman led us to the sidewalk, her hands firm but gentle. "Are you girls okay?" she asked. Jackie and I nodded numbly. "What happened to your mom?" "I—I don't know," Jackie stammered. "It looked like she fell asleep," I whispered. Minutes blurred together until the wail of sirens filled the air. The paramedics arrived, checking my mother and asking us questions as they loaded her into the ambulance. Jackie and I rode with her, our small hands gripping each other tightly.

At the hospital, my father and older brother, Kai, were already waiting. Dad scanned me from head to toe, making sure I wasn't hurt. He was always like that, always looking out for me. After speaking with the nurses, he called Jackie's mom, who arrived quickly, worry written all over her face. She checked Jackie over, then hugged my dad. "She's getting worse, isn't she?" she asked quietly. Dad's expression tightened. He glanced at me before pulling Jackie's mom aside for a private conversation. A doctor approached me next. "Do you want to see her?" I nodded, my heart pounding. Inside the hospital room, my mom looked so small in the bed, exhaustion etched into every feature. But when she saw me, she lifted her arms weakly. "Are you hurt, baby?" she murmured. "Mommy's sorry… I didn't mean to lose control." Tears spilled down my cheeks as I ran into her embrace. "I'm not hurt, Mama." She brushed my tears away with a trembling finger. A little while later, my dad and Kai joined us. Kai looked heartbroken as he hugged Mom. Then my father turned to me, his face shadowed with grief. "Audra, we need to tell you something." I frowned. "What is it?" He hesitated, his voice heavy. "Your mother… she won't be leaving the hospital for a while. We've been trying to protect you from this, but we can't anymore. She's sick, and we don't know what's wrong." I looked between them, my chest tightening. "So… she can't come home?" They nodded. And just like that, we left the hospital without her.

Three and a Half Years Later

The house never felt the same after that day. No matter how much time passed, it remained hollow—like a piece of me had been carved out and taken away. I visited my mom as often as I could, but she only got worse. Her body had withered to skin and bones, her hair falling out in uneven patches. She looked dry, fragile, like a ghost of the woman who once danced in our kitchen. Then, the news came. We were moving—to another country. I was devastated. Jackie and I sobbed together, knowing that distance and time zones would turn our friendship into a series of fleeting messages. But worse than that was the reason for our move. The doctors in our country couldn't help my mother. Everything became a countdown to our departure. The house grew emptier as we sold our belongings, piece by piece. And then, the day arrived. Jackie and I said our tearful goodbyes, and I boarded a plane for the first time—not for an adventure, but for a medical transport flight. We bounced between flights, finally settling into first class—funded by the hospital—where my mother had an onboard nurse. Twenty exhausting hours later, we landed in a foreign country. People stared as we left the airport in an ambulance, my mother too weak to travel in a regular car. At the new hospital, they whisked her away the moment we arrived. We weren't allowed in the room while they assessed her condition. That first night in our new home was the hardest. But eventually… she started to recover.

Present Day

I remember it all—the home we left behind, the life I used to have. Now, I was trapped in a different kind of hell. My thoughts felt tangled, my body detached, floating somewhere above my rationality. I wasn't me anymore. And I didn't know if I ever would be again.