DAISY JOYCE
It was a chilly evening when my mom expressed her worries and suggested we check in on Dad. Recently, he had been overwhelmed with work, and we all felt his absence. The stress showed on his face, and our excitement for the upcoming family vacation faded as our calendar filled with unread emails.
Then, something unexpected happened. One afternoon, while Dad was trying to find a moment of peace in the chaos of his office, a wealthy businessman reached out to him.
Their conversations quickly became a whirlwind of hope and possibility. Before we knew it, Dad secured a major contract that felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through his exhaustion.
I watched as his energy slowly returned, his eyes lighting up again. Dad often says that everyone battles their own struggles, but this time it seemed like he was finally winning.
That night, when he burst through the door, full of excitement, the mood in our home changed instantly. Our hearts lifted as he shared the wonderful news, and everything felt a bit brighter.
His contagious joy filled the room as he announced that we would be flying to South Korea, right after he finished the project. I felt swept up in a daydream, imagining myself boarding a plane, exploring colorful markets, and tasting new foods.
Finally, the day we had been waiting for came. The air buzzed with excitement as we packed our bags, eager for all the adventures that lay ahead. As we piled into the taxi—our last ride before the trip really began—our anticipation turned into cheers. Dad reassured us that this journey would be unforgettable, and his excitement was hard to resist.
At the airport, disbelief washed over me. Could it be that I was really about to fly to a different country? Time flew by in a blur of announcements and luggage checks, and before I realized it, we were in the air, leaving home behind us.
The vacation was truly magical. We immersed ourselves in the lively culture, creating memories I would treasure forever. The laughter we shared and the sights we saw filled me with a joy I had never experienced before. However, beneath all the excitement, a sense of unease lingered, hinting that something was amiss as our return approached.
As we boarded our flight back to England, I felt a bittersweet feeling settle in my chest. The thrill of South Korea still lingered like the sweet scent of cherry blossoms, while the comfort of returning home held its own charm.
Our flight was smooth until we unexpectedly stopped in a foreign country for a layover. After that brief stop, we got back on the plane, feeling the familiar comfort wrap around us like a warm blanket, calming my wanderlust.
When we finally landed in England, we hopped into a taxi, eager to share stories of our travels, each of us holding souvenirs. But then the weather turned grim; rain fell heavily, making the streets seem dangerous. Dad told the driver to go slow, his voice calm, but I could feel the tension rise.
Without warning, the car jerked and stalled—a sudden twist of fate that felt tragic.
In that moment, panic flooded through me as time seemed to freeze. Everything around us dimmed, and I could sense an impending crash with a large truck.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for what might happen next.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself enveloped in darkness and confusion. Pain coursed through my body, a stark reminder that I was still alive. I tried to move, but my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. A wave of panic surged as I called out for my parents, my voice trembling, but only silence answered.
Desperately, I searched for my siblings. My heart pounded as I found them lying still, their eyes closed as if they were just napping. The driver was also unresponsive.
A chilling realization washed over me: I was the only one awake in this terrifying nightmare. I screamed for help, a raw sound escaping my lips before the darkness swallowed me again.
When consciousness finally returned, I found myself in a stark white hospital room, filled with the sharp smell of disinfectant. A kind nurse walked in, her face lined with concern. She asked how I was feeling, and I managed to croak out that I was okay. But then came the question I dreaded: "What about my family?"
The nurse hesitated, her brow furrowing as she seemed to search for the right words. After a moment that felt endless, she sat down beside me, gently rubbing my back. My heart raced with anxiety as she finally spoke, her voice soft but heavy, revealing the gravity of what she was about to say.