Girl Of Cinder

The rain cascaded down onto the roof of the bus, slowly trickling down the windows. There sat Lucinda in the half-filled bus, earphones in her ears blaring sweet dreams by Alessia Cara, her thoughts slipping away with the rain, wishing they would wash away. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out the windows of the bus; the images coming back to her mind; the bell ringing, the fresh smell of baked cupcakes filling her up.

Looking up from the cash register, to attend to the newly arrived customer that walked in, he looked familiar, the scar line that traced up from his left eyebrow to his cheek felt like it was something she’d done, her senses telling her she was in danger while being confused why her body was acting opposite to how she wanted to act.

She blacked out, distorted images of a little girl standing in the corner panicking, her clothes torn at odd angles. Despite the tears pouring down her cheeks, she held on to nothing but a pocket knife with both hands. This was the only thing she believed she could use to protect herself, fear seeping from her pores as blood dripped down the blade. Suddenly, she jolted out of her trance, the bus driver had announced the final bus- stop, which was her stopping point.

She stepped off the bus and stayed until the traffic signal shifted to red. As she stepped off the curb, still lost in her thoughts, a bright light illuminated the street, and a trailer was coming her way, honking its horn. She quickly snapped out of her thoughts. Her feet had a mind of their own, not budging at all.

Lucinda saw her life flash right in front of her, the times she’d had fun with her mother. She remembered the birthdays she had spent, and even when she fell ill, her mother was always there to care for her needs. As she braced herself for the impact, she felt nothing.

‘Is this how the afterlife feels?’ She thought.

Although her eyes were closed, she felt a heavy weight on her. Trying to push the weight away, she heard it grunting in pain. The air smelled like burnt tires, the cold wet tarred road, with water seeping through her coat. She took a peek at her surroundings and realized she hadn’t suffered a hit, but someone else was on top of her. A crowd had already gathered around. It took her a while to get out from under the person. She saw he was badly injured, and he had actually saved her.

She started panicking due to the amount of blood flowing from his head. " Call an ambulance!” she kept on shouting, trying her best to stop the blood from flowing some more, with his head on her lap.

He answered with a raspy voice, “I’m fine.” He sat up off Lucinda’s lap, trying to make it look like he wasn’t bleeding from his head.

“No, you’re not and you need medical attention,” she mumbled, placing her hands on the bleeding area, not caring about herself.

The ambulance quickly arrived, and they laid him on the stretcher. “Ma’am, can you walk? Are you alright?” the paramedic inquired.

She replied, “Yes, I can walk. Just look after him. He’s in a more critical state than I am.”

“If you say so, can you stand up?” the paramedic asked, out of concern.

“I’ll try.”

While trying to help herself up, she felt a sharp pain in her right ankle and the side of her left rib. The paramedic was seriously observing her to see if anything was wrong before she could say anything; he helped her into the other ambulance and they drove off to the hospital, leaving the accident scene behind. He hooked her up to some IV drips and did the basic first aid necessary before she got to see a doctor at the hospital.

***

“Where’s she?” asked Mrs. Hayashi in the reception area, upon entering the hospital.

“Who are you looking for, ma’am?” asked the nurse at the front desk while she was on a phone call.

“Lucinda Hayashi.”

“Room 3b, on your left down the hall,” the nurse directed, turning back to her phone call while writing on the notepad in front of her.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Hayashi called out, running towards the designated room for Lucinda.

Her assigned doctor was already in her ward, taking a count of her heartbeat. Mrs. Hayashi walked in on them as they wrapped her right ankle in a cast. They’d placed it on a big pillow and attached IV drips and other tubes to her body.

“Hey, sweetie, I heard what happened,” she said, bringing out the mushroom porridge she had made for her.

“I’m still surprised that I survived it.”