If that drunkard hadn't been on the road, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't be seeing my sweet sister lying in a hospital bed, closer to death than I ever wanted to see her. I wouldn't be hearing my mother sobbing, "Why?" I wouldn't smell the scent of disinfectant. I wouldn't be here.
We were just riding along, my mother and six-year-old sister Marea singing praise songs like they usually do. I was trying my best to ignore them; I don't share their beliefs. Ever since I was little, God has been nothing but a big fairy tale to me. A myth. Anyway, we were going along when suddenly a car came around the corner into our lane so fast it flipped ours over backwards. All I could think was, I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. Obviously, I didn't die; I was in pretty good shape compared to my sister. She was bleeding all over, but especially from the mouth and nose. I knew right away what that meant: internal injuries. A passerby stopped and called 9-1-1, and within five minutes, an ambulance was there. The paramedics immediately put Marea on the stretcher and into the ambulance, while Mom and I sat on either side of her. Mom had her eyes closed the entire time, and I knew she was praying. A lot of good that'll do, Mom. You're just talking to yourself. Of course, I didn't say this out loud. The police were called as well, and the drunk driver was arrested and his license revoked. I got a lot of texts from friends saying things along the lines of "praying 4 u!" I didn't feel like telling them not to bother, I just said "thanks." It was going to take a lot more than "God" to help Marea now. The doctors were saying they were working as hard as they could and trying everything. I believed them and trusted them.
My mother tells me to come with her and get something to eat. "I'm not hungry, you go on," I reply. She looks at me, worried, then relents and leaves the room quietly. I have been storing all emotion inside of me, but now it just pours out and I don't know if I will ever be able to stop crying. I think the reason that my tears have not come till now is because I wanted to be strong for my sister, but I finally convinced myself that she's in such bad shape that she doesn't even know what's going on around her. If she…doesn't make it…how am I supposed to move on with life? I don't know if I'll even want to. No person or thing will ever be able to make me laugh; I'll be doomed to a life of miserable depression without my sister. In fact, I've already made up my mind: if she is not alive, I don't want to be either.