The Day My Heart Died

by Clare Russell – Year 7, Campbell High School

I glimpse the white lights, the flashing sirens; I feel the tightness in my chest. I try to breathe; my lungs contract. I try to talk; my throat screams.

Mum is above me, her lips are moving, trying to tell me something; I can’t hear. She’s probably crying, or not; she never cared about me anyway.

I try to breathe, slowly this time, hoping only for a wisp of precious air. I retreat into my mind, searching for all the things I’d lost.

1 breath.

I see the house, the rickety roof and sunburnt tiles, ivy creeping up the eaves. The whitewashed walls, reflecting the sun like snow; the blinds always drawn in the windows. The gumtrees, standing tall like fence posts, casting long thin shadows.

The trellis at the back, wisteria reaching violet tendrils over the rotting wood. That was where the tutor would teach Tia during the day. She told me I should become a teacher, share my knowledge with the world.

The shed in the backyard, rusty shears hanging unused; we lost the sheep long ago. Next to it were the prickly berry bushes, the ones that Jordie would throw me into, and leave me there crying for hours.

I would curl up and hum then, but every time I pricked my finger the sharp pain of betrayal re-emerged. Jordie went off to university two years ago, he got into med school, Mum and Dad stole some of my college money to pay for it. They don’t hide who’s the favourite sibling, they never will, even after I’m dead.

That was the day my dreams died.

2 breaths.

I see the garden, the dainty red roses, dotting the foliage like showers of confetti. The daisies that grew among the weeds, reaching toward the sun. The daffodils in the flower box, Mum’s most prized possession. She would see the whole garden die and still have eyes only for her daffodils.

The fig tree that crept into Tia’s window, its wide branches brimming with tiny green fruit. I used to climb that tree, every afternoon after school. There I could find solace in feeling the wind brush past me, leaving me behind.

The old ute in the driveway, gathering dust as Dad continued walking to work everyday. He says we should get more exercise, that he’s getting fit. He works an office job.

Weeds sought shade under the cracked pots, spreading like moss. Often I would hide in the shade too, where even the sun wouldn’t notice me. I had always liked it that way, being alone. Maybe I’ll finally have some peace when I’m rid of this life.

One year the summer was too hot, embers came flying toward the house, catching the breeze like a fiery river. The daffodils caught first, then the wooden boards of the attic erupted in flames. I didn’t really care, I never liked the house anyway; but now we live in an apartment I think I should’ve been more grateful.

That was the day the garden died.

I hear a faint beep from the computers left of the bed. I still can’t see anything but white.

3 breaths.

I see Ergan, with his dark skin and harsh features. He looked like Dad, but had Mum’s merciless eyes. I thought of him as kind; maybe that’s because I compared him to Jordie. He worked at a department store, had to earn a living for himself. Tia and Jordie were the privileged ones, only because they brought Mum and Dad recognition. Tia with her condition, Jordie with his looks.

Ergan had a proper car, a big Ford with a roaring exhaust. He took me for rides on occasion, but work usually had priority. He was always hardworking, despite every little failure Mum and Dad pointed out. Maybe I had it better off.

When I turned 13 he made me drink a swig of whisky; I still have that burning taste in my mouth, even lying here on the hospital bed.

One autumn we drove around the mountain, whizzing along the highway at 100ks an hour. I told him to stop, he just went faster. I shouted, he ignored me. A sharp bend in the road appeared, he didn’t see.

We rammed straight into the fence, knocking it off completely. The car tumbled down the steep slope, hitting a rock then flipping onto the dashboard. Ergan was still sitting upright, and when the windscreen smashed, he went limp. I was hiding under the seat, I could only see his feet. A trickle of blood slid down his ankle, I was too horrified to look. I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t call the ambulance. I tried to scream, but was choked by tears.

I waited there under the seat until someone noticed us. By that time Ergan had been bleeding too long; Mum still thinks I could’ve saved him, everyone does actually.

That was the day my brother died.

4 breaths.

I see the school, paint peeling off the walls, gum under the desks, toilet-paper on the roofs.

My friend Sally walked alongside me as we navigated the corridors, avoiding watching gossipers. I was never popular, I was too smart. No one had ever called me beautiful.

Sally was the same, a nerd like me who didn’t fit in. She also had ADHD, though it gave her more attention. Sometimes I wish I could be sick, maybe then Mum and Dad would care about me more, like they do Tia.

I had only ever had one boyfriend, but he kept quiet, let the bullies hit him. I couldn’t bear seeing him hurt; he still refused to fight.

In eighth grade I was expelled, they’d found drugs in my bag. I knew I hadn’t put them there, but somehow I wish I had. Maybe they might’ve helped. The school wouldn’t take me back after that. Even the tutor was too busy.

Then I really did start drugs. Maybe fighting the addiction took my mind off other things. So many other things.

That was the day my future died.

Last breath.

The meds started clogging my bloodstream. I didn’t care, Mum and Dad did only because of the cost. Tia did, but I told her to forget it; she had a life ahead of her, I didn’t. I had no friends, my brother was dead because of me, I talked to plants in my spare time. I was going crazy, and I didn’t even do anything about it.

Jordie graduated from med school, he’s a heart surgeon, funny coincidence really. He’s got a fiancé over in France, she’s the daughter of a cattle farmer. Maybe he had some heart in him after all.

Tia went to the private school when the tutor stopped coming, where she gets proper academic support. She really does have a future now, I’m happy for her.

Ergan’s dead, always will be.

I developed a heart problem, could not be convinced that my parents truly loved me, and worked in a flower shop where I wore a fake smile.

We were driving to the movies, bottles of whisky in hand, chatting in the back of the taxi. Mum had discovered me with the knife, I don’t think she realised what it was for. She kicked me out of the house; I’m not sure I’ll ever be allowed back.

We pulled up to the cinema. I stepped outside the car and fainted.

I watched from above as if I were a ghost; watched my body be hoisted onto the stretcher, the ambulance skip all the red lights, my parents pull up a few minutes later. I was certain I would die, a wave of sadness overwhelmed me. I couldn’t understand it. I wanted to die, I don’t care about life… but a voice told me that I could have had a future, that I could have escaped the prison of my childhood and sought a new life. I could have died with friends around me, children singing me songs. I think that was the moment I realised that maybe life was worth living, no matter what place it puts you in. Sometimes you’ll be unhappy, but you are the one who controls your life, the one who can make a difference. Suddenly I wanted to live, I wanted to see what would happen in 10 years’ time; how many times Jordie would divorce, how many college degrees Tia would strive for, how many people would remember Ergan.

But it’s too late for me now. I hear the distant beep of the computer stop, the white being replaced by black, Mum’s trembling lips kiss my forehead goodbye, bringing with them hot tears. I wonder what would have happened if I had made it to 5 breaths, if I’d have lived. After all 5 was the age I got adopted.

15 was the age my heart died.