I always knew my purpose. I found it in my family. My mother's warm smile when she called me "my love." She made everything feel safe, like home wasn't a place but the sound of her voice. My father's deep laughter when he told old jokes-ones we'd heard a thousand times but still pretended were new. He was our anchor, our strength, the kind of man whose presence alone made the world feel steady. And then there was my twin brother. My reflection. My second heartbeat. We had our own language, a silent understanding in just a glance. He was my best friend, my partner in everything. Our home? Love lived there. Laughter lived there. And I? I belonged there. It was supposed to be just another night. A road trip to celebrate our university admission. The car was full of stories and inside jokes, the scent of my mum's homemade chin chin mixed with the faint new-leather smell of my dad's car seats. Music played in the background-Olamide's "Triumphant"-fitting, because that's what we were. Triumphant. Young, full of dreams, with a future waiting just beyond the horizon.
Chapter 1 The Crash
I always knew my purpose. I found it in my family.
My mother's warm smile when she called me "my love." She made everything feel safe, like
home wasn't a place but the sound of her voice. My father's deep laughter when he told old
jokes-ones we'd heard a thousand times but still pretended were new. He was our anchor, our
strength, the kind of man whose presence alone made the world feel steady.
And then there was my twin brother. My reflection. My second heartbeat. We had our own
language, a silent understanding in just a glance. He was my best friend, my partner in
everything.
Our home? Love lived there. Laughter lived there. And I? I belonged there.
It was supposed to be just another night. A road trip to celebrate our university admission. The
car was full of stories and inside jokes, the scent of my mum's homemade chin chin mixed with
the faint new-leather smell of my dad's car seats. Music played in the background-Olamide's
"Triumphant"-fitting, because that's what we were. Triumphant. Young, full of dreams, with a
future waiting just beyond the horizon.
I was in the back seat, half-listening to my dad as my twin brother nudged me, whispering some
nonsense about a girl he had a crush on. Mum laughed at one of Dad's terrible jokes, and for a
moment, I wished we could freeze time. Hold on to that second where everything was perfect.
Then it happened.
BOOM!
A blinding light.
A scream-mine or my mother's, I couldn't tell.
A sickening sound of metal tearing apart.
The taste of blood in my mouth.
Blackness.
***
I woke up to white.
A white ceiling. A white blanket covering my body. A white bandage wrapped around my
forehead. The beeping of a heart monitor. The sterile, suffocating smell of disinfectants and
drugs. I blinked. Once. Twice. My throat was dry, my mind still foggy. My body felt... off. Heavy.
Numb.
Where was I?
I tried to sit up, but something was wrong.
I couldn't move my legs.
Panic clawed at my chest. I willed my legs to shift, to do anything. My brain screamed the
command, but nothing happened.
They weren't moving.
The door creaked open, and a doctor walked in, his face too calm for what he was about to say.
I hated him immediately.
"You're awake," he said.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "Where's my family?"
A pause. A hesitation. His eyes softened, and in that moment, I knew.
"I'm so sorry," he said, "you were the only survivor."
Silence.
The words didn't make sense. They sounded distant, like an echo from another world.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not possible. My mum, my dad, my brother... they were
right there with me. We were just-"
"The accident was severe." His voice was too gentle, too careful. "The impact-"
"NO!" The scream tore through my throat. "You're lying! They- they can't be gone!"
I felt a hand on my shoulder, firm yet empty of comfort. The doctor kept talking, but his voice
blurred into background noise. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.
My family was gone.
The world tilted. My stomach twisted, my chest caved in. My legs were useless, but it didn't
matter because the weight of grief was so crushing I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them, I'd wake up back in that car, back in that
moment where everything was right.
But when I did, the hospital ceiling was still there.
And my family was still gone.
***
The funeral was in seven days.
Seven days of staring at the ceiling, refusing to eat, refusing to speak. Seven days of waiting for
my mum to walk through the door and call me "my love" just one more time. Seven days of
silence, because what was the point of words when the people you wanted to hear them from
were dead?
The nurses whispered about me. I could hear them when they thought I was asleep. "She hasn't
cried." "She hasn't even asked for a mirror." "She's just... staring."
They thought I was numb. That I was too broken to process it.
But I wasn't numb. I was drowning.
Drowning in guilt.
Why was I the only one who survived? What was the point of waking up in a body that wasn't
even mine anymore?
I had nothing left.
Or maybe, I had one last thing-the choice to end this pain.
On the morning of the funeral, while the world dressed in black and prepared to bury my family, I
crawled to the window of my hospital room.
It was a five-story building. I looked down.
A way out.
An amazing way to end it all.
I took a breath.
And I let go.