Revised version of this story:
I remember the sea.
I would stand at the edge of the water, inching my way forward until my mother called me back to her side. One day, when this had occurred, I paused before returning to my mother. The sun touched the ocean, setting it ablaze with orange and red. The wind picked up and ruffled my hair. My eyes grew wide in fear. Then, like magic, a single star appeared, its light soothing my young, fragile mind. My mother slid my hand into hers and wrenched me away from the dazzling sight of the sunset.
That was seven years ago. The year the accident happened.
The tiny far off light of the airplane blinked once, twice, and again. I watched it with an intense curiousity.
"Mom! The star is winking at me!" My mom looked back at me from the driver's seat, smiling broadly.
Two lights pierced the night. The bright glow bathed the interior of the car. Glass shattered and flew inwards. My mother gasped as the shards stung her cheek. She turned back around and wrenched the wheel as hard as she could but it was too late. Our momentum sent us down the bank. We slid into the ocean below.
"Oh my God!" My mom shrieked and attempted to open her door. I was frozen, motionless in the back seat. Everything happening around me didn't seem to be real.
I glanced out the window to my left and saw the tanker truck that had hit us. It had been carrying some type of fuel, perhaps oil, which was now floating on the surface of the water around us.
The tide pulled at the car, dragging it towards the truck. My mother's frantic cries could not be heard. She reached back to me and unbuckled my seat belt.
"Crawl up here!" She told me, motioning to the empty passenger seat beside her.
I did as I was told, wriggling between the front seats. I watched as my mom removed her jacket and covered the jagged edge of glass remaining on the windshield frame.Water was already beginning to fill the front of the car, lapping at my ankles.
My mother crawled across the jacket-covered glass, offering her hand to me. I reached for her.
Unbeknownst to us at the time, the engine of the truck exploded and lit the fuel on fire. It raced towards the car.
I was only nine years old. Without a second thought, I pushed my mom into the water seconds before the engine of our car exploded.
I screamed and scrambled backwards into the back seat. The front end of the car tipped forward into the ocean. I braced myself agains the backs of the front seats, staring up at the stardappled sky framed with flames.
Reaching out to them, I almost believed they would swoop down and save me. In that moment, the entire car was swallowed by the sea. The glass exploded inwards from the sudden pressure.
Pieces stung my face, sinking into my eyes. I screamed until water filled my lungs and stifled my cries. The last thing I saw was the light of the moon and stars, murky through the lense of seawater.
The world turned dark.
Like the sunset, my world was lit by an incredibly beautiful fire before being plunged into the night. My life became murky, an existence filled by only sound, feeling, smell and taste. And even those seemed dull in comparison to the sight I had once possessed. I was permanently depressed and prone to emotional outbursts. But that was before I met Sarah. She taught me how to see without eyes. It was she who showed me how to dream again. And I taught her not to be afraid to dream.
I will never forget her. Never.