A Moment Of Silence

• Grace Breen, Grade 12, Goulburn Valley Grammar School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

We all like to think we know how we would react in a life-threatening situation. Take being bitten by a poisonous snake for example. It’s easy to say that in the case of snakebite you would be able to remain calm, maintain a steady heart rate and cut the poison off at the source. It isn’t until you are actually bitten that you begin to panic. Taking a deep breath, staying still and waiting for help is surprisingly no longer a priority, and your instinct to survive begins to run wild.
That’s how I felt when my car drove off the bridge that night.

I loathed this song. I had been driving for almost two hours, and it had been played on the radio seven times. I sighed and struck the off button with a forceful push. I sighed again, this time with relief. I can’t remember the last time I was in complete silence. As a child, I hated silence. In fact, I feared it. Going to bed at night was a constant struggle, as I knew it meant once the lights were out I was completely alone with my thoughts. If I wanted to break the silence, it had to be me who broke it. I was even labelled as a ‘problematic child’ during my early years of schooling simply because I could never be still during quiet time.

Reminiscing about my childhood was short lived, as the obnoxious sound of my phone began to echo in my head like a haunting cry for help. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I looked down to inspect who it was. I flicked my eyes at the road then back down at my phone. It was my boss. The sound of my ringtone forced me to squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. I looked back at the road. Only, it wasn’t road anymore. My car was plummeting over the side of the bridge.

As I forcefully hit the water, the car began to sink instantly and I began to panic. I had watched a video when first going for my license. It was a detailed step-by-step tutorial on how to get out of a sinking car. I repeatedly tapped at my forehead as I desperately tried to remember the steps. Nothing. My instincts told me to scream, thrush and bash on the window. The water began to rise like an hourglass; constantly reminding me that time was running out. The water was now at my jawline. I stretched my neck up but my seatbelt glued me to my seat. The water was rising fast. Before I knew it, I was completely submerged.

It was completely silent, and I had never felt so peaceful. My hair floated around me like seaweed drifting in the current. I closed my eyes. I sighed. Bubbles floated out of my mouth and darted to the surface like escaping convicts with no time to waste. I closed my eyes. I loved the silence.