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There were two major occurrences that happened on the day of November 26th, 2006 which led to your best friend’s death. Maybe she would still be alive, if your boyfriend hadn’t broken up with you. Or if you hadn’t gone home that day.
You stand in front of the 3 places. The
diner. Your childhood
home. The scene of the
crash. You have the chance to do it over again.
All you have to do, is make the right choice.
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/cT6KTyY.jpg" alt="GhostTown" />
There were two major occurrences that happened on the day of November 26th, 2006 which led to your best friend’s death. Maybe she would still be alive, if your boyfriend hadn’t broken up with you. Or if you hadn’t gone home that day.
You stand in front of the 3 places. The [[diner]]. Your childhood [[home]]. The scene of the [[crash]]. You have the chance to do it over again.
All you have to do, is make the right choice.
<img src="http://images1.phoenixnewtimes.com/imager/u/blog/7864637/chaffin_s.jpg" alt="Diner" />
Ben leans back against the booth, refusing to make eye contact with you. He mutters two simple words, ‘I’m sorry’, and just as you’re about to [[ask]] him what went wrong your cell phone starts ringing. Lauren’s number lights up your screen. He looks at the phone, knowing that you’ll [[answer]].
<img src="http://www.peace-of-mind-petcare.com/homenight.jpg" alt="Home" />
You’re standing in the garden, watching as the sunset casts shadows across your childhood home. It’s so much smaller than you remember. You look back at Lauren waiting for you in the car, comforted that you have an escape. You can see your breath in the cold November air, and your hands are shaking. You have no idea what to expect. Will he be drunk again already? Will he be nice? Angry? You’re never really sure, and you’re never ever ready for it. You walk up to the porch, take a deep breath, open the front door and walk [[inside]].
It happened on a Sunday, 10 years ago.
She picked you up at the diner. Ben had just broken your heart. Then she drove you to your house where you could pick up your stuff, but your drunken father kept you back. So she went driving for a bit to pass the time, and then...
It happened.
Maybe if Ben hadn't broken things off. Maybe if you stayed at the diner two seconds later. Maybe if you hadn't let your father keep you from going out that night.
Or maybe if you saved her, you still would have lost something else.
Fate is a funny thing. You can escape the bad memories for a while. You can even escape the pain. But fate is the one thing that is inevitable. Sometimes it will be a loud interruption in your life, like a car crash or the smashing of a bottle. But sometimes it's peaceful and slow like a funeral march, and the captivation of crystal snowflakes falling from the sky.
He looks at you then, surprised, almost like he didn’t expect you to care. You remembered the first time this conversation took place, on October 17th, how you ignored him and pushed him away. Now you have the chance to [[make it right]].
“Hey Lauren.”
“Hey! When do you want me to pick you up? [[Now]] or [[later]]?”
You reassure him that you want to make it work and that there’s nothing more important to you. He looks relieved. This is how it’s supposed to be.
<div class="jukebox">The old jukebox stops playing.</div>
“Here, pick a song,” He says, handing you change, “Make it a good one.”
You look at the options, stuck between [[33]] and [[78]].
'Faithfully' by Journey starts playing - your mom’s favourite. Guilt suddenly washes over you. You’re conflicted as to [[go]] home to check on your dad, or to [[stay with Ben|leave]].
It’s Lauren’s favourite song. You suddenly feel guilty for ignoring her call. What if she still dies, even though you ignored her [[call|answer]] this time? Would it still end the same?
“I need to go home,” you say to Ben, “But Lauren can't give me a ride. Will you?"
"Of course," he responds, and you know you made the right choice. If [[Ben takes you home]], that means Lauren doesn't give you a ride. That means she'll stay home and be safe.
You know there’s no use staying here. He’s just going to tell you what you already know, that he’s not interested anymore. “Can you pick me up now? We just need to pick up my stuff up at [[home]] and then we’ll go to yours.”
"Sure!"
He looks at you then, surprised, almost like he didn’t expect you to care. You remember the first time this conversation took place, on October 17th, how you ignored him and pushed him away. Now you have the chance to [[make it right]].
You smell smoke. Typical. He never could stay off the cigarettes for long. You're unsure of whether to go into the [[living room]] and open a window or check if he is in the [[kitchen]] first.
You walk into the living room, filled with photos of better days. On the coffee table sits a photo of your dad holding you up in the pool as a toddler on the day you learned how to swim. His face is ecstatic in each and every one, especially the photos of your parents wedding day. Another photo catches your eye of your mom holding you as a baby. You wish with all your heart she was here to hold you right now, and to pry the bottle from your father's shaky hands.
It appears for a moment that this is the living room of a happy family. The only reminder of reality sits in the middle of the photos on the mantelpiece, in the shape of an urn that holds your mother's [[ashes]].
You walk into the smoky kitchen and sure enough, there he sits at the round dining room table, a bottle in one of his calloused hands and a cigarette in the other. You realise his dinner is smoking in the oven. You quickly take it out and pry open a window, waving the smoke away with a dishcloth. He doesn't look up as you glare at him, his glassy eyes are fixated on the chair across from him.
It was where she used to sit.
"Hey Dad," you say cautiously. He looks at you then, but it's like he doesn't see you. You remind yourself that you don't have to deal with this, and you could just get your stuff and [[leave]]. He's put you through so much already since mom died, and you don't deserve any of it. But maybe if you [[sit for a while]], and try to get through to him, maybe this could all end differently.
You sit across from him at the kitchen table.
It's your one last chance, and you have to try.
"Dad." You say it sternly this time, praying he'll listen.
He looks at you then, right in the eyes, and you feel it all at once. The pain and confusion, the [[anger]] and betrayal. And worst of all, the [[love]] you have for him.
You’re standing in the garden, watching as the sunset casts shadows across your childhood home. It’s so much smaller than you remember. You look back at Ben waiting for you in the car, comforted that you have an escape and that Lauren is safe at home.
You can see your breath in the cold November air, and your hands are shaking. You have no idea what to expect. Will he be drunk again already? Will he be nice? Angry? You’re never really sure, and you’re never ever ready for it. You walk up to the porch, take a deep breath, open the front door and walk [[inside]].
You notice the smoke seeping into the room, and find it strange. This seems stronger than cigarette smoke, and sure enough the smoke alarm goes off at that very second. You are unsure of whether the trail of smoke is coming from [[upstairs]] or the [[kitchen]].
As you walk further up the stairs, the smoke gets thicker and blacker. You take one last breath and cover your mouth. You can barely see a thing. Your heart pounds faster and faster, and then you see the flames coming from your father's room and your heart stops altogether. You could try to [[save him]], or [[call]] for help.
Your hands tremble as you dial 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
You tell them through They reassure you that help is on the way and to go outside. But it could be too late by then. You could follow their instructions and [[go outside]] or try to [[save him]] yourself.
You start to run towards the door when someone pushes you out of the way.
Ben.
"[[Get out of here|go outside]]!" He yells at you, and then runs towards the door. Before you can stop him he reaches the room, and the flames takeover. You try to follow him but your lungs fill with smoke.
You run down the stairs of the porch, gasping for fresh air. You feel it cleanse your lungs but they still burn. They burn with fear. You collapse on the cold grass and the colours start to flash. There's ringing in your ears. You realise it's the sirens.
Except you saw the flames.
You saw the roof cave in.
You know [[it's too late]].
They try to lift you to take you to the ambulance, but you wrestle them away. You realise you're clutching onto something, and see the urn of ashes in your arms and the flames in the house get higher and higher.
You could only save what is already gone.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ben asks.
"Talk about what?"
"Whatever it is that's on your mind."
You shake your head and walk down the streets of your childhood, riddled with nostalgia. The November night is cold, and Ben gives you his jacket. Sometimes you talk, and sometimes you let the silence fill the air.
You walk past the park where your mother pushed you on the swings. You clutch her necklace that you're wearing and your heart sinks as you realise how much you miss her.
You walk past the high school where you first met Ben, your stomach flutters from the memory of that very first day.
You walk past Lauren's house and spot her bedroom light is on. You smile knowing that although you could not save your mother, you were able to save your best friend tonight.
For a moment [[you're fooled]] into believing the world is a safe place.
This is better. This means you don’t have to deal with his drunkenness.
You need to clear your head and so [[go for a walk]].
At the corner of the park, three men approach from the darkness. Ben's shoulder's stiffen. Your heartbeat quickens.
"We should get you home," he says.
"Good idea."
Ben takes your hand and you turn around, quickening your pace.
"Hey!" One of the men shouts at you, and you both [[start to run]].
Faster and faster.
But it's too late.
They catch up to you and block your way. Ben drops your hand and forms a fist, but two of the men quickly grab him and wrestle him to the ground. You reach out for him but the other one is on you, and suddenly there's the sharpness of cold metal against your head.
"NO!" Ben shouts, and you realise it's a gun. He tries to wrestle free but they have him on the ground, his arms pinned against his back.
"Well now, pretty girl," The man says into your ear. "What's this we have here?" He reaches for your mother's necklace around your neck. [[Every part of you is trembling]].
He has your arms pinned behind you, but he doesn't see that your hand is in your backpocket, where your cell phone is. You could easily comply and [[give him your mother's necklace]].
Or you could try to [[call 911]].
As soon as you give them your necklace your heart sinks, and they flee the scene. Your hands are shaking and Ben grabs you, pulling you into a hug. Terror washes over you, but then the relief settles in. You lost your mother's necklace but Lauren is still alive. And so are you.
Ben calls 911 and takes you [[home]].
You hit the wrong button and your phone bleeps. It's enough to make him jump, and before you can open your mouth he pulls the trigger.
The gun drops to the floor and the man's face goes white.
The two men let go off Ben and they shake their friend. He's frozen in spot, staring at the part of your stomach where [[he shot you]].
"WE GOTTA MOVE MAN!" One of his friends shout at him, and they flee the scene.
The car door slams. A girl is running towards you.
And then you realise you saved her too.
Lauren.
She runs towards you and collapses on the ground, wrapping her arms around you.
[[With everything we save|crash]] we lose something else.
The pain is insurmountable.
The blood won't stop.
Your hands clutch your stomach.
Ben grabs you and frantically calls 911. He's telling you over and over again it will be ok. Really he's just lying to himself.
You focus on his face instead of the pain, knowing it will be the last thing you see. His pale white face is covered in tears, his eyes glossed over with tears. For a second you think you see white lillies falling from the sky, but it's only snow.
You lay there in his arms as you wait for [[death]] to come.
There's a moment that plays over and over again in your head. You're 3 years old in the pool with your dad. He lifts you high above his shoulders and you're both laughing. Handsome father, young, happy and free before the [[alcohol took over|sit for a while]].
He had just taught you how to swim for the very first time.
At the edge of the pool sits [[your mother]], reaching for her disposable camera.
You want to lock up this memory, and experience it over and over again forever.
And yet fate is the thing we can save nobody from, not even ourselves.
Beautiful mother, her stunning blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle. Her gorgeous blonde hair that fell out a few years later.
Cancer is the one thing you couldn't save her from.
It was always her fate.
And so maybe the car crash was Lauren's fate. Maybe you weren't supposed to save her either.
For everything in the past we change, [[another tragedy is waiting to happen|crash]].
You can't help it, you smash the bottle against the table, waiting for him to react. Yet he sits there, still, eyes refusing to make eye contact with you.
And then he finally speaks.
"White lillies," he mutters, and then looks up at you. "She loved white lillies so much."
"[[I know]] she did" is what you want to say, but you also have the sudden urge to [[shake him]].
"Please, dad." You feel your voice crack. The tears start to fall. This is the first time he's looked at you in months, but it's only for a moment.
He reaches for the bottle but before he can grab it, you [[take it]] instead with the sudden urge to [[smash it|anger]].
He looks at the bottle in your hands.
"Your hands," He mumbles, "They're shaking."
You laugh at this because it's ironic that your face is covered in tears and yet he's worried about your hands.
"You must be cold," He says, and then you feel [[enraged|anger]]. How can he be so ignorant to your pain?
"I'll [[make tea]]," he mutters, and starts to get up.
You reach for his shoulders and shake him aggressively.
"I NEED YOU TO TALK TO ME!" You scream, desperate and afraid that he's lost forever.
"Stop it!" He shrugs you off, annoyed, and you're relieved that there is something left in him.
"Dad-" You begin, but he cuts you off.
"Your hands are cold," he says simply, "I'll [[make tea]]."
You want to tell him to forget it and to [[go for a walk]] instead, but another part of you feels inclined to stay.
There's not much you can think of to say after that.
He cowers back in his chair, and lights another cigarette. You're unsure of whether to [[try one last time|ask him]] or just [[leave]] now, and forget this whole thing.
"Dad, I need to know something." He sits back down, but doesn't look at you. He reaches for another bottle again, but instead of grabbing it you take his hand instead.
It's been so long since you've held it, and [[memories of better days|death]] rush into your mind. The tears form in your eyes again, but you blink them away.
"Do you still love me?"
He looks at you then purposefully, for the very first time. For a moment you think you see emotion in his eyes, but you're not so sure.
Suddenly afraid of his answer, you feel the urge to [[leave him alone|living room]] for a while, but another part of you is inclined to [[hear what he has to say]].
As he stands up you realise how frail he looks. He stumbles over to the counter and boils the kettle, looking out the window with his back to you as he waits. A robin lands on the branch of a tree outside, and it starts to snow.
You watch as he makes your tea, stunned. One milk, two sugars, and suddenly you see a glimpse of a man that resembles the father you once knew. The realisation hits that he still remembers the smallest things about you.
He walks over to you, and places the tea carefully in front of you, refusing to make eye contact.
You know you should [[accept the tea in peace|I know]] but you also want to [[ask him]] the hardest question you ever will.
He looks at you, stunned and evidently hurt.
"Sweetheart, of course I love you," He says, "It's me that I'm ashamed of."
"Dad we can get you help. But I need you to talk -"
Suddenly your cell phone rings. It's Lauren.
"You should [[answer it]]," Your dad says.
"Hey, it's Lauren! I'm just going to pick up some food, you want anything?"
Your heart drops. The memory comes rushing back.
This isn't supposed to happen.
"Lauren, no, you have to go home ok?"
"What? Wait a second, I can barely hear you, I -"
You hear fumbling, the sound of tires screeching, and then...
[[It happens|crash]].