My Broken Heart.

It's not the same as any usual Broken Heart. It didn't happen in the same way as most girl's in high school would say it did...
It happened so much earlier than it should have, and I realized the pain from it years and years later.

So many times the same story has been told to me.

And out of all those times I have never once truly believed that the accident was a real part of my life. It always seemed like a dream, not something that would happen to my little family so many years ago.

My Dad had driven semi-trucks for years. Sometimes, when I think really hard, I can remember days and nights when he would race to his destination, the radio turned up with my mom holding little Melanie in her lap while we sang along to familiar songs. My Dad learned to stay up during the nights so we could get to places on time.

Why that certain night held a different story, I will never know.

They tell me that my Dad was really tired, that he fell asleep because of the exhaustion. I wouldn't blame him--driving at night while everyone else is asleep would make me sleepy, too.

It all happens too fast after that.

No one really explains what happens next. It's always avoided, something that no one dares to speak of.

We got in a bad car crash, the car rolled...

Always the same words and as they are spoken my mind sees spinning blackness with lights that look like stars...

And I feel the hurt, but I never say anything.

No one does.

Then we were rushed to the Hospital.

And I'm left to think. To imagine what my small family looked like. Blood on our clothing, cries for help...

My mother's broken shoulders and my father's mangled legs. My little baby sister, not even old enough to talk for herself. My small baby sister with my little body next to hers...

But no one speaks of it. Because it's unheard of.

Until the day my mother told me.

I don't remember when she told me, only that she did. And that when she did it felt like my life. Because it was. And it is.

She told me how Melanie was doing so much better than I was. How Melanie was supposed to live her life and I wasn't. I remember the fear that leaked into my heart and the sorrow I still feel when I learned that I was in a coma, inches from death. But I woke from it. And when I did, Melanie got worse.

While I got better.

Until it was time to say goodbye to the sister I love so much. And I can only imagine my Mom's tears as she held her little baby in her arms and watched as her baby took one last little breath.

While I got better.

Almost like she gave her life for mine.