The phone goes crazy as it starts beeping in her ears. She gains her consciousness, a little annoyed, as her hands struggle to find the phone and put it out of its misery. As she sits up, she joins her hands and murmurs the words out. "Oh Lord, thank you for this blessed morning and the warm summer breeze. I hope you bring elation and fulfil my wish of living to see the next day." She crawls out of bed and waddles her way to the washroom.
"Breakfast is ready, Laura!" a woman calls out. The toothbrush still in her mouth, Laura goes next to her and lets the aroma waft into her.
"Don't you get a little sick of making pancakes for me so often, aunt June?", Laura says as she's chewing it cheerfully on the table. Her aunt gives her a pleasant smile, but Laura doesn't see it.
"So Laura, have you considered it?", her aunt asks. Laura chucks the fork in the plate followed by a sigh of exasperation.
"Baby, I know it's been hard for you, but you need to understand that all this is being done to help you out. It's for your own good.", her aunt said.
"I've talked to you about this, aunt June. I am not going to anyone and I don't need any help", she said in a commanding tone.
Her aunt begins, "But Laur-", "I said I don't need help!", Laura cuts her off as her eyes are tearing up. "How many times do I have to tell you, aunt June? I don't want to go to anyone!" She yells, now crying. "You have no idea what it's like! And you never will! Never!".
Aunt June now says in a consoling tone, "But baby, I'm just doing what your mother thought would be bes-". "Stop trying to do what my mother would've done! You're not my mother!", Laura snaps.
She starts searching for anything that's within reach and starts throwing stuff around while bawling horridly. She storms towards her room and hurts her toe on the way by walking into the wall by mistake. She sits on her bed, crying. She looks up at the ceiling, "Why was this done to me? Did I really deserve this? My dreams are all I had, and those too are taken away from me." She sinks her head into her hands, and the memories come rushing through.
She was in her car with her parents. It was just six months ago and yet, it seemed like yesterday. An elated, immature, innocent girl, just wanting to have dreams. Just paint down everything that infatuated her. And so they went for a camping trip to the hills. "Where are we going, Dad?", she asked, while painting a picture of her with her family on a lush field of grass. "To Wonderland, dear. You can sit and paint there all day long.", he said, in a joyous manner. "While me and your Dad are just going to adore your artwork all day", said her mother in a chirpy way. The painting was almost done, but she'd left the eyes for the very end, as she believed capturing the right amount of emotions was the most important and the hardest thing to do. Just as she finished drawing their eyes, her dad took a look at it and started to improvise it himself. Almost done, he looked at the road, and that's where it all began. A huge carrier truck was now speeding towards them. Both of them swirled at the opposite sides of the road to avoid each other in a state of shock, but the lumber form the carrier truck made it's way through and crushed her parents after hitting her spine, rendering the car to turn over on the asphalt, leaving the three of them strewn on the road. She regained consciousness, but it was dark everywhere. She crawled up to her mother, following the sound of her murmurs. "B-baby, are you okay?", her mother spurted out. "I'm fine, mom. I'll get you out of this", she stammered. "Your parents love you, Laura. Never forget that." "Mom?", she asked with an edge of uncertainty in her voice. No response. Wanting to see her mother so bad, she struggled and rubbed her eyes. Nothing happened. Realisation dawned. The doctors say the wood damaged her optic nerve flowing through the spine.
This the story of Laura Black, who didn't even get a chance to see the lights go out of her mother's eyes.
This is the story of the girl whose eyes will remain undone in the painting she made. Forever.
P.S. This sort of thing could be the concept of a story. Reviews are needed.
