I was sixteen the day my life changed forever. It was a cold winter evening, the kind where the sun sets too early, and the world is painted in shades of gray. I remember sitting in the back seat of my parents' car, staring out the window as snowflakes drifted down, melting the moment they hit the glass. My dad was driving, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, while my mom sat beside him, her arms crossed and face turned away.

Dad's voice broke the tense silence. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this," he said, his tone strained and defensive. He kept glancing at Mom, frustration etched across his face.

Mom huffed, her breath fogging up the window beside her. "Because it is a big deal, Tom. You can't just make decisions without talking to me first. We're supposed to be a team, remember?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing I could melt into the upholstery and disappear. Their arguments had been getting worse lately, but this one seemed different—more intense, like there was something deeper simmering beneath the surface. I wanted to ask what was going on, to tell them to stop fighting, but I kept my mouth shut, afraid of making things worse.

Dad's voice raised an octave, tinged with exasperation. "I was trying to do something good for us, Mary. For the family. Why can't you see that?"

Mom shook her head, her expression hardening. "Good for us? Or good for you? You don't get to decide that on your own. This affects all of us, Tom. You, me, and Seren." She glanced back at me, her eyes softening for a moment before they returned to Dad, her anger rekindling.

I felt like a spectator in a play, watching as my parents' words bounced back and forth, each sentence a dagger that cut deeper. I hugged myself tighter, my breath fogging up the window. Outside, the world was a blur of white, the snow falling heavier now, thick flakes swirling in the wind.

Dad sighed heavily, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I'm tired of this, Mary. I'm tired of fighting all the time."

Mom's eyes flashed with hurt. "So am I, Tom. But you're not listening. You never listen."

A lump formed in my throat as I listened to them. I wanted to scream at them to stop, to tell them that whatever they were fighting about wasn't worth it. But I didn't. I just sat there, watching the snow fall, feeling the tension in the car grow thicker with each passing second.

Suddenly, a blaring horn shattered the tension, and everything happened at once. Dad's eyes widened as he turned back to the road, but it was too late. The blinding headlights of an oncoming car filled the windshield, and I felt the world spin out of control. There was a deafening crash, a violent jolt, and then darkness.

When I came to, there was a strange, almost eerie silence. The kind that presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. I felt cold, my face pressed against something wet and freezing. It took me a moment to realize I was lying on the snow-covered road. My body ached, pain radiating from every part of me, but it was dulled, like I was floating outside of myself.

"Mom? Dad?" I croaked, my voice barely a whisper, lost in the wind. I tried to turn my head, but my neck screamed in protest, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. Panic began to bubble up inside me, clawing at my chest as fragments of the crash flickered through my mind like a broken film reel—the arguing, the headlights, the impact.

With a groan, I forced myself to move, dragging my body across the snow. Every inch felt like a mile, the cold biting into my skin, but I pushed through it, driven by a desperate need to find my parents. "Mom! Dad!" I called out again, louder this time, my voice cracking.

I reached the wreckage of our car, my heart sinking as I took in the sight. The front end was completely crushed, the metal twisted and broken, steam rising from the mangled engine. My breath caught in my throat as I peered inside, my hands shaking.

Dad was slumped over the steering wheel, his face obscured by a curtain of blood. "Dad!" I shouted, banging on the window with my fist. He didn't move. Beside him, Mom was leaning against the shattered passenger window, her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed.

"No, no, no," I muttered, panic clawing at my insides. I pounded on the glass harder, ignoring the pain that shot through my hand. "Mom! Dad! Please, wake up!"

They remained still, lifeless. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of me. They were gone. I was alone.

"No! Don't leave me!" I screamed, my voice raw and desperate. I banged on the window again, harder this time, until my knuckles split and blood mixed with the snow. "Please! You can't leave me!"

Tears blurred my vision, and I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, sobbing uncontrollably. I stayed like that for what felt like hours, my body shaking with each ragged breath, the cold seeping into my bones. The sound of sirens in the distance grew louder, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was the last argument, their voices filled with anger, and now this silence.

Suddenly, I felt hands pulling me away from the car, voices shouting around me. I tried to fight them off, to stay with my parents, but my body was too weak, too broken. The world around me blurred and faded, and the last thing I saw before everything went dark was the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the snow.

When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed. The room was dimly lit, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nose. Machines beeped softly around me, their steady rhythm the only sound. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind, but everything felt distant, like I was floating in a dream.

A soft voice broke through the haze. "Seren, you're awake," a nurse said gently as she leaned over me, her face kind but tired. "How are you feeling?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and sore. "W-where are my parents?" I finally managed to croak, the words scraping against my throat like sandpaper. I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it, needed to cling to some shred of hope.

The nurse's face fell, her eyes filled with pity. She looked away, her silence confirming what I already knew deep down. "I'm so sorry, Seren," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There was nothing they could do. They... they didn't make it."

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I gasped, my chest tightening as a wave of grief crashed over me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but all I could do was lie there, numb and broken. The reality of their deaths settled over me like a heavy blanket, suffocating me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, turning my face away from the nurse. "No, no, no," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. "This can't be real. This can't be happening."

The nurse reached out, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "I know this is hard, Seren," she said softly, her voice full of empathy. "But you're not alone. We're here to help you through this."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. All I could do was lie there, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could go back to that moment in the car before everything fell apart. Before my life was changed forever.