I had one thing on my mind, one thing only. Fanna, my five year daughter. She was almost the full reason I woke up in the mornings. And the other reason being, my miserable job.
"Melaine?" She called out again. Between my thoughts, and her calling my name over and over, I felt cornered and rushed.
"Fanna," I mumbled under my own breath, but she had caught on from my mouth movements."Where is she?" I asked with a solemn look.
"Melanie, there has been an accident," She exclaimed yet I could almost hear her heart beating almost out of her chest. "Fanna, is. Dead,"
Then, just then. Had I known what it feels like to lose someone you truly care about. I've lost friends, grandparents, but your own child? Nothing could even compare. This roaring silence between myself and the Nurse made me wish to be dead a thousand times more than I should. I had not remember one single thing that took place during that crash. But maybe, if I wouldn't have gotten into that car, my baby wouldn't be dead. It should have been me. Why her? Why take a life with so much value?