Diary of a Beautiful Person

A girl who sees things that other people don't usually see. She tries to understand the language of the world and in her journey she falls in love, meet new interesting people, and try to find the meaning of life

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2. Voodoo dolls and red toy cars

 

 

April 15, 2011

 

      This day cannot be happening . I had arrived at the hospital twenty minutes after the accident, legs quivering violently, breath short and choked. I had missed the ambulance. I had stared at her body, nonresponisive, sprawled on the gravel like a voodoo doll except shards of glass stuck inside her instead of shiny needles. I too was still, watching the men load up my mother, shaking their heads then driving off. I was a statue. My lips were pursed, my eyes scarlet. I wasn't crying.

       Only a few minutes later, I had found the strength to stand up. The crowd had finaly cleared, chatting away at each other like excited children. Gathering a deep breath, I stared to run the five miles to the hospital. When I got there I heard the news.

       My brother was there, crying his eyes out, clutching the red toy car in his right hand. It had a chip in its side. One of its handles was torn off. Until this momement, I had not though that much about that toy Billy loved with his life. With its black windows and a lightningbolt on its side, it looked exactly like the car that killed my mother.  

       

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