Prologue
Tara
The first thing I heard was the sound of soft rain, soothing, like a gentle lullaby lulling me to sleep. I tried to open my eyes, but they were heavy. It was cold, icy cold, like the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, and no matter what you do, you can't get warm. There was a weight on my chest, making it hard for me to breath. An anxiety attack perhaps?, Suddenly, I felt the rain on my face and on my shoulders as it came down harder..
A pungent, burning smell assaulted my nose. It was familiar... Gas!
I forced my eyes open, blood immediately rushing to my head, which felt heavy. I moved my face, feeling suffocated. Something was pressing against my face, restricting my breathing.
I managed to turn my head to the side with great difficulty and caught sight of my dreamcatcher, but it wasn't hanging from its usual spot on the rear-view mirror where it had hung for the last fifteen years. Instead, it was lying on the felt roof on the inside my car. How did I get here? What was happening to me? Was this a dream? It had to be.
I tried to move, but my body was cemented to the spot.
The cold was unbearable. Where was I?
I closed my eyes and tried to remember. I gasped, the reality of my situation hitting me like a ton of bricks.
The rain pounded on the roof of my Toyota Sedan, and I struggled to see in front of me. It took a while to get used to this old car, the heating didn't even work. I hadn't driven this thing in years, but I refused to drive that monstrosity at home, the one that reminded me of before all this. “Screw it, I thought. I didn't need to see where I was going, I would go where the road took me.” I reached across to the passenger side where the bottle of red wine rested, the second one this evening. I put the bottle up to my mouth, struggling to open it with my teeth. It wouldn't budge. I placed it between my thighs, squeezing them together to get a firmer grip, and looked down for a second to open the lid with one hand. When I looked up again, I was heading for a barrier. I turned the wheel and tried to make the sharp turn, but I lost control, my hands instinctively moving off the steering wheel to cover my face as my car crashed into the barrier and plunged into the darkness.
That is the last thing I recalled.
I was in an accident.
My car was turned upside down, and I was stuck in here. I couldn't move. I tried to shout for help, but I knew nobody would hear me. I'd been out driving in the middle of nowhere, and to top it all, I was intoxicated. Maybe I didn't deserve to be saved at all.
That smell again. The gas was leaking.
I tried to move against the door, but I couldn't. I pushed against the airbag, but it didn't budge. I could feel the rain on my shoulders, a window must have broken during the crash. The taste of blood in my mouth made me want to wretch.
And then I heard it, a sound I never thought I'd hear. It was faint, in the distance, but I was sure it was the sound of sirens. I felt sleepy again, my eyes drooping. I tried to stay awake, but it was no use. I was slipping away, and in that moment between life and death, all I saw was one face.
Chapter 1
Tara
Present Day
Ispent several years of my life inflicting undue blame on myself for the actions of others. I made excuses for everything horrible that ever happened to me because I believed that there was something that I could have done differently. Something I could have changed.
I blamed myself for my father dying when I was just a child. If only I’d tried harder to make him stay. If only I’d been less of a bother to him. I accepted and kept silent for several years about my mother’s lack of concern and disregard for me as her daughter. Instead, I ran the first chance I got.
I believed I was the cause of my parent’s crumbling marriage. That I’d taken too much of his time. A child should not put that much responsibility on her shoulders, but, I did, and there was no-one to tell me otherwise.
Friends who betrayed me, only did so because they had a reason. Maybe, I was not good enough.
I created justifications for everyone, and eventually, I started to believe them, putting myself down in the process. Finally, I made the greatest excuses for the man I loved. He promised me the world, eventually turning mine upside down. He broke my heart, he shattered my soul, and he left me cold.
He bled me dry then discarded me like I was trash. All I was left with was nothing but a ton of empty promises and lies, which I was only just starting to unravel. And eventually, when I thought he couldn't possibly hurt me any more than he already had, he also took away the one thing that ever made sense in my life. It hurt to think about that, the more I did the angrier I became.
I wondered how I would ever piece my life back together again.
I looked around the hospital room I share with three other women.
The gray-haired woman in the corner, closest to the door, is Martha May. She's in here for a hip operation. She'd fallen down a flight of stairs in her sons' home after trying to get herself some water in the middle of the night. Martha May is sixty-eight and a retired school teacher who could talk the ear off of anyone willing to listen. She brought with her a framed picture of her family, which she placed on the cupboard beside her bed. Her son, Damon, a surgeon, was married to Lillian. They had two children, Lily and Hugh, who meant the world to Martha May. She smiled whenever the door opened, hope dancing in her eyes, only to have it dashed when a nurse or doctor walked in. Family, I sneered. A family that had not been around to see her in the three weeks she'd been in this hospital. But still, she waited, even though it may be in vain. She was optimistic, like a sailor who sets out to sea with hope that the wind will carry him safely to where he needs to be. She was a fool, a fool for spending her savings sending that bastard to medical school. She was a fool for hoping. It would kill her in the end.
Then there's Tessa, a mature escort who broke both her legs after being run over by a drunken driver. She wasn't sure if it was an accident or intentional. I would go with the latter, I knew the kind of monsters that exist in the world. Tessa loved listening to Martha; it seems to take her mind off her own troubles. She was a friendly woman with a warm smile. Her life, as she often told us, was an open book. It's evident that the nurses looked down on her because of herprofession. It never bothered me. Who was I to judge someone I barely knew? Nobody knew her backstory, and nobody had a right to judge or belittle her.
Finally, there was Constance, the quiet woman with a fractured skull. She didn't speak to anyone; she just looked out of the window in a daze. Flowers arrived by the dozen. Her handsome husband, who managed to turn even my head was by her side during every visiting hour. He held her hand, which trembled. She sat tight-lipped, her eyes never meeting his. She didn't need to share her story. I knew it all too well. I learned how people lived different versions of themselves: one behind closed doors, the other which they parade around the world, complete with discorded marching bands and punctured floats. I lived that same lie for years.
