The Mirror And The Ashes.

"I'm not going, Mom! I told you a hundred times- I'm not going back to school."

My voice cracked, caught somewhere between rage and fear, both of which I'd gotten too good at bottling up. I stood at the top of the staircase, arms crossed tight across my chest like I could shield myself from her words- maybe from the world. Every nerve in my body felt exposed, raw, like skin rubbed too thin.

"You have to try, baby. You can't hide forever. I know it's hard but staying locked in your room won't bring your life back."

My mom said from the bottom of the stairs. She held my old backpack in her hand- the one I used to cover with pins and glittery nonsense like 'Smile more' and 'Live Loud'. Now it just looked like a memory that didn't belong to me anymore.

"You think just because I walk into that school, everything will be okay," I snapped.

"They're going to stare at me, Mom! They're going to laugh or pity me, or worse-pretend they don't see me when I know they do. I can't be around people. I'm not like them anymore!"

She clutched the backpack a little tighter.

"You are still you," she said, trying to sound firm, like that phrase could actually fix things.

" You are still smart and funny and-"

"Don't say that!" I shouted, my voice sharp and enough to cut. My eyes started to burn, and I hated how easily the tears came.

"Don't stand there and act like this is something I can just walk off. I watched everything go down like my face melting in the reflection of a broken plane window. Dad held my hand and the next minute he was gone. He reassured me that everything is going to be okay. I don't even remember how I got out! I shouldn't have survived- he didn't- now I have to live like this."

Silence

The kind that sits between people and chokes the air out of the room. She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, or comfort me, or say something useful- but nothing came. Instead, she turned away, walking slowly unzipped into the kitchen. She set the bag down on the table with a gentle thud, like it weighed more than books and notebooks. Like it held the version of me she wished would come back.

I stormed into my room and slammed the door hard but softly so it wouldn't make much noise. Bottling my anger. I dropped to the floor and pressed my back to the wall, letting tears come in ugly, broken waves. I pressed my palms into my face- and then immediately regretted it. My skin felt so uneven, foreign, like it didn't belong to me anymore. That feeling- the reminder- it never went away.

Eventually, sleep took over. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just wanted to disappear for a while. But darkness never came without something behind it. It always starts the same way, the very same that whenever I closed my eyes the same scenes kept replaying into my mind: turbulence. Not the harmless kind that jostled your seat and made your stomach do backflips. This was different. This was violent, sickening. The way the lights above flickered, the little ding that usually meant 'fasten your seatbelt' now sounded like a warning bell from hell. People gasped. Some prayed. A man in the row behind us threw up into a paper bag.

Next to me, my dad caught my eye and smiled. That soft, knowing smile that used to calm me down when I was little, scared of thunderstorms. I thought- for second that it would be okay. Then someone yelled "We're are losing altitude!" and the plane went sideways. My head slammed against the window. The glass cracked- tiny splinters spreading like veins. Then the wind- cold, brutal wind roasting through the cabin, brushing roughly on my skin. I couldn't breathe. The masks dropped, lifeless, swaying in the chaos. My dad reached for the mask, struggling to get the strap around my head. His fingers were shaking terribly around my head.

People's hair was whipping across their faces including mine. My seatbelt dig deep into my ribs. Everything around me was a blur of screams, rushing air, people reaching for their loved ones. I suddenly felt a strong, reassuring grip.

"I've got you," he mouthed.

I looked at him. That smile.

It was calm. Reassuring. Like he still believed we'd be okay.

And then it happened.

The sound, the sound of metal crying like being ripped off by a giant. The emergency door of the cabin only a few rows ahead of us, burst open with a terrifying whoosh. The more violent wind busted, slamming into us. The metal edge smashed into the side of my head. Pain- sharp pain, then nothing. Like a switch was flipped. I was gone. I floated somewhere between waking and dying.

No pain. No thoughts. Just darkness. Then something pulled me back. I gasped for air. My sight was blurry. My vision was smeared like someone had dragged a dirty cloth over the world. Everything was red and black and wrong. There was a bitter taste of blood in mouth. That's when my heart started to pound like crazy against my chest. Pain started to linger. My body was in exclusive pain. A piece of jagged metal- some broken shard that I couldn't see clearly had impaled my left foot.

The pain was so intense it felt unreal, like my mind couldn't register it all at once. Smoke stung my nose. Something was burning, maybe fuel or corpses. My heart thrusted harder as I slowly turned my head to look at the seat my dad was at. He was nowhere my eyes searched. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Only a dry, broken gasp. I wanted to cry, but tears couldn't come out. I was immensely in pain. My ears caught faint hint of sirens in distance, like they were funneled through layers of cotton. The sirens grew louder, sharper- closer. Flashing lights. Red. Blue. White. I couldn't hold it anymore. I was shutting down. My body had nothing left but crucial pain.

Not victory. Not gratitude. Just pain. And silence.

Heat crawled over my skin like fire trapped under my bones. Sweat soaked my back, the sheets, my hairline. I tried to move, but nothing was happening. It was like I was trapped. I tried even harder but all in vain. My body turned into stone. What's happening. Panic started to crawl up my throat. I was awake, but I couldnt do anything. I was trapped in myself. I tried to shout.

A raw, panicked scream. Then I started to feel my body move. Within seconds the door burst open. She was there in a flash. She dropped her knees besides me and hugged me tight, squeezing onto me.

"I'm here," she said, breathless. "It's okay. It's okay. You're home. You're safe."

I was crying, but the tears didn't feel like my own. They felt stolen from a younger version of me- the one who still believed life would go back to normal. She rocked me slowly, whispering.

"It was just a dream. It's over now, honey. I've got you."

But I knew it wasn't just a dream. It was a memory. And it would never be over.