Vicky Shi (9) | STAFF REPORTER
I’m floating in an endless expanse of space.
I’m falling down from the roof of the apartment.
I’m dying.
The ground isn’t hard,
but not welcoming,
Like a cast
that holds you together
But ultimately, it shatters anyway
The blood is a pool of ice,
It’s cold
but a welcoming sense of warmth
There are faces
blurred and worried
It’s a wave of cries
A tide of shouts
A tsunami of cameras
The sounds,
they are loud
Too loud,
My head hurts
It aches
A calming hand centers me
but I’m still falling
down, down, down,
down a river
My limbs flying above me
My gasp is only a current of bubbles
I can’t talk
I can’t hear
I can’t see
I can’t feel.
There’s a pull
a tug in my gut
Telling me to rise
rise higher
to the surface
Am I in heaven?
I’m flying too fast
I’m flying skywards
I’m falling back
I’m on the roof of the apartment
I’m alive.
Found
There’s a hand on my shoulder
It guides me back
I try not to fall down the stairs
My legs can’t support my weight anymore
I stumble into the open sun
The heat is scorching
I don’t complain
I follow
I follow the hand
I follow where it takes me
If it takes me to the Grand Canyon
Or the edge of a cliff
And pushed me down
Then so be it
The hand is still on my shoulder
It holds me together like a cocoon
I can’t live without it
I stand there
The hand doesn’t motion for me to go
So I stand
I stand still
The hand will tell me what to do
“Gonna stand there, little girl?”
Gonna stand there, little girl?
Gonna stand there, little girl?
The echo is too loud
I falter
I trip
I stumble into the open road
The hand is gone
I’m gone
There is no screech of tires
There is no yelling
It’s just…
There
I think I fell
But I don’t know what to think anymore
The hand will tell me what to do
It always tells me what to do
I think that’s the ambulance
I think that’s the police
I think I’m in a hospital
But I only think
I don’t know
Because the hand will tell me what to know
What to think
I see faces
They are blurred by the speed
Of the wheels
I blink
Hard
Tears fall out
A hand reaches out to wipe them
I turn away
It’s only a hand
What can a hand do?
What right does a hand have to do to me?
What right does a hand have to do with me?
I close my eyes
Because that’s just
A really
Really long blink
Because
I am falling again
Because the hand
The hand doesn’t tell me what to do anymore
And I don’t know what to do
I am floating
There is no gravity
I don’t have to care
Of what I should do
Because
No one is telling me otherwise
I wake up to darkness
I fall asleep to darkness
I dream in black
I think in black
But when I open my eyes
There is white
There are no noises
It’s so quiet it’s lovely
I feel for the hand
I can’t find it
It’s not in my hand
It’s not in my heart
And most certainly not on my shoulder
“Where’s the hand?” I ask
“What hand?”
The nurse is confused
Because
Apparently,
Hands don’t separate from the body
I should not be looking
For a carcass of a hand
“That’s not lady-like” The nurse chides
“But the hand-”
“The hand is what pushed you in the first place.”
“What?” My world is turning upside down
I can’t understand why the hand would do such a thing
But the hand always has a reason
It’s always right
And it will always tell me what to fo
The nurse turns
She’s holding a platter of food
“You should eat some. You have been out cold for long.”
“How long?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“How long?” I shout
I’m angry
The hand would never aggravate me like this
Because it will tell me not to be angry over such a small thing
Because the hand will always tell me what to do
The nurse feeds me soup
Her hand is trembling,
Shaking
The broth spills over my lips
The heat stings my neck
I bit back tears
It’s really hot
Too hot
My tongue feels numb
But the nurse feeds more
And spills even more
Too much
I’m too full
I want to puke
There is too much soup
I don’t want it anymore
“I can feed for myself,” I say
Because there is more soup on the sheets
Then there is in me
“No, you can’t,” the nurse tells me
“Why not?”
“You have no hands, silly!”
