Paralysis

• Erin Moffatt, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

I woke up to sirens. I was hungry and tired. Flashing lights blinded me as I got up from the park bench I was sleeping on. The police, they were after me.
Next minute I found myself running. Running as fast as I could. As fast as my thin little legs could take me. I felt helpless. I knew I shouldn’t have done the things I did. Killed all the people I killed. The people say I’m something called schizophrenic. “If the police get me, they’ll take me back in the orphanage,” I thought to myself. I kept running. At this point, I had no idea where I was. Until I saw the large letters written on a sign ahead of me:
Yatalia Girls’ Orphanage
I was truly stunned. No, it mustn't be it. Then I saw mum and dad waiting outside. I was seeing things. Then I saw someone get hit by a car. It was fake. I screamed for help. I fell to the ground, then hit my head. I was too tired to function. Darkness surrounded me. I couldn’t move.
The following ten minutes was just me dropping in and out of consciousness. My eyes blurred, my legs hurt. Needles were piercing my brain. The sound of alarms drowned out the silence that burst my eardrums. Questions ran through my head as if they were bullets whizzing past. Where was I? Who was I? I was desperate to find answers, I was on the verge of tears. I struggled to move. I struggled to get any voice out of my mouth. I was paralysed. I was trapped in my own body. Unable to move, unable to communicate. It felt as if I was clinging to the edge of a cliff called life. Someone was next to me. She left. I wanted to ask for help. I wanted to move my head. I couldn’t, I couldn’t? I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t tell anyone. What was the point?
Soon I was back in the orphanage, surrounded by a bunch of girls who I’d seen before. I could move. I could talk. It was a dream.
I then found myself back at home with my parents. The ones I never saw again. I could breathe. I could live. All the memories faded.
I woke up again, in hospital. I was unable to move, unable to communicate and unable to live my life. I went from a girl with family, to being in an orphanage, to being homeless, to being paralysed. A young nurse approached me. She smiled. She understood. She didn’t, no one did, no one would.
“Blink if you can hear me,” she said. I squeezed my eyes three times, desperate for help. She nodded.
“Ok. Blink if you can remember anything.”
I didn’t. I kept my eyes wide open. She smiled. For the first time I felt like I had someone to talk to. I felt like someone could help. I never thought I would feel that again.