by Dani Hart
"I love you, Mr. Reilly." I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with every ounce of passion in me. These were the moments I would never forget. These were the moments that would get us through anything. For better or worse. Until death do us part.
When Tragedy Strikes
THE LIGHT COMING toward us didn't seem right, but it was too late to react. I heard the screeching of metal on metal and the horns blare before I was launched into the air. Right before I blacked out, I heard screams followed by eerie silence.
I was struggling to open my eyes, and every breath I took elicited a piercing pain through my rib cage. I couldn't remember where I was, what I was doing, and why my body felt like…and then it flooded back to me. I was on the train. The light.
The silence was lifting, and quiet cries for help were getting louder. I pried my eyes open, adjusting to the darkness. I was surrounded by a thick cloud of dust, and my ears were throbbing from the impact. When I tried to push myself up, I cried out in agony. I couldn't move the arm I had landed on. I rolled onto my back, only to be punctured by shards of glass, or maybe it was metal or plastic. Tears of pain streamed down my face as I tried to endure the pain and not pass out again.
I was lightheaded as persistent throbbing pain passed through my body and settled in my rib cage and arm. I tested my other arm carefully before applying pressure on it. It seemed usable, so I brushed the debris away and pushed myself up to a seated position. The cries were fading, which was horrifying, in and of itself. The dust was settling, so I could make out the seats of the train that were now on the wall that used to be the side of the train because we had tipped over.
I tried to formulate coherent thoughts, but I couldn't. I was in a state of complete shock. My heart was beating quickly, and I knew I was bleeding, because I could feel the sticky wetness penetrating my clothes. I hadn't heard any familiar voices, and my body was now trembling. I called out, "Mom. Dad. Tessa," but no answer. Through whimpers, I called out again, "Brandt." Every time I talked, the pain in my ribs screamed.
"Help." I heard a childlike voice respond.
I was at the back of the car when we crashed, on my way back from the bathroom and stopped to take a quick look outside, and that was when I saw the other train's lights coming at us head-on.
"Please, help," a girl's voice cried. My legs were badly bruised, but they were functioning. I stood up, clutching my broken arm and waiting for the wave of nausea to pass before I tried to walk. The girl was sobbing so quietly now that I knew she didn't have much time. I wanted to make my way to the front of the car where my family was, but I couldn’t just leave the girl. I walked carefully over luggage, personal belongings, glass, metal, and—no, no, no. The nausea returned with a vengeance, and I bent over and threw up, crying at the same time. The trembles had taken over my muscles, and I could barely stay on my feet, but I did, because what was on the floor was so much worse. Body parts and lifeless bodies were strewn about among the wreckage.
I wiped my mouth and called out, clutching my ribs with the effort, "Hello?"
It was silent.
Dead silent.
I wanted to breakdown. I wanted to wake from this nightmare. Please, let me wake up.
"Help."
The voice sounded so distant now. I shuffled a few feet and then I saw her. I remembered her during the ride singing Britney Spears' songs to herself. So happy and full of life. Now, her short blonde hair was soaked in blood, and she was trapped under seats that had become dislodged, pinning her down. I immediately identified where the blood was coming from. It was her arm. The one I saw in the aisle a few moments ago. It was hers.
Keep it together, Bay. Keep it together. "I'm here."
I bent down on my knees. The blood was gushing out of her severed arm and I needed to find something to tie around her arm to stop the bleeding. I searched the floor next to us, trying hard to avoid the other part of her arm in the aisle. I sifted through the pile of clothes and found a tie. It was Brandt’s tie from the wedding. I lost it. My body sobbed uncontrollably fearing the worst, but the little girl’s pleas reminded me that I had a purpose. I couldn’t give up. She needed me.
"Sweetie, what's your name?" I asked as I grabbed Brandt’s tie and scooted to her.
"Lizzy," she responded, barely keeping her eyes open. She was ghost white.
"That's a beautiful name, Lizzy. I am going to tie this around your arm to stop the bleeding. I'm sorry if it hurts." I knew this was going to be painful for both of us because my arm was broken and tying this wasn't going to be easy. I needed to keep her talking, so while I wrapped it around her arm, I asked her more questions. "Is Britney Spears your favorite singer?" I winced in pain as I pulled the tie taut.
She whimpered, "Uh-huh."
I was losing her, but the bleeding stopped. I couldn't see the rest of her body from the waist down, though, so I didn't know what other damage there was.
"Baylor?" Brandt shouted.
"Brandt!" I hollered back hysterically. "Brandt. I'm here." I sobbed hard again. He found me quickly.
"Where are you hurt?" he asked as he surveyed me.
"Please, Brandt, help her."
Aside from cuts and swelling on his face, he seemed to be moving okay. He bent down to Lizzy. "Hi, honey. How are you holding up?"
"I'm tired." She was barely audible now.
Brandt looked at me sorrowfully, which I returned with a horrifying look, shaking my head. "No, no, no. We have to try, Brandt. Please, we have to try." I already feared the worst for my family, and the thought of losing this little girl would surely throw me over the edge. He lifted the seats off her body.
"Bay, can you pull her out?"
"Yes." I grabbed her under her one good arm and slowly pulled her out, moaning in my own pain, and rested her head on my lap. That had taken it all out of me, and I needed to rest. I was out of breath and dizzy. Brandt kneeled down next to me.
"You're hurt badly, Bay. We need to get out of here."
We both looked up, hearing the sirens in the distance. "They'll be here any minute." I was feeling very drowsy, and my words were slurring.
"Bay, stay awake."
He shook me lightly. "I'm here, Brandt. I'm here." But I wasn't really. I was drifting, but I needed to know. "My sister, my parents. Are they…?"
He shook his head solemnly. "Everyone, Bay. It's just us in this car. It's just us," he choked.
I wanted to cry, but all that came out was a wail of pain and sorrow. I had no energy to cry, but I would. If I survived, there would be many tears. I had lost everyone. Everyone except Brandt.
I faded in and out of consciousness. I could hear Brandt talking to me, but I couldn't respond anymore. Lizzy stopped moving, and I couldn't feel her chest moving on my lap anymore. I thought I heard Grady's voice, but I couldn't be sure. And then the weight of Lizzy was gone, and I was floating in the air. It was tranquil, and I hoped it would all be over soon. My body had numbed from the pain, and I was just left with foggy thoughts and flashes of the horrific scene that surrounded me. My thoughts traveled to Lizzy’s arm lying in the aisle among pajamas and hairbrushes, like it was just another luggage item. Then my thoughts became white, and the ringing in my ears amplified, blocking out all other sounds but Brandt's voice.
"Bay, please, open your eyes. Please."
Brandt's voice brought me back. My eyelids were heavy, but I opened them. An oxygen mask had been placed over my face and my breathing became easier.
"Hi," Brandt said as he stared at me, brushing back my hair. I was lying on a gurney under the flashing lights of an ambulance, an IV already in my arm.
"We're going to get you to the hospital, okay? You're going to be okay."
He had convinced himself I would survive, but I knew a part of me had already died, and the other part wasn't sure if it wanted to live.
"Lizzy. Is she okay?" The paramedics looked at me, confused, but Brandt heard.
"They already transported her. We'll find
out when we get there. You'll be at the same hospital."
I nodded, and one of the paramedics put the mask back on me as they slammed the rig doors. I dozed off as soon as we started moving.
PHYSICAL PAIN HEALED with time. The other pains, emotional and psychological, weren't so easily healed, and in severe cases, never would. My case was severe, and I had survived the physical when many others hadn't, but the real test was learning how to live in the aftermath of so much destruction and without the ones I loved.
Waking up in the hospital was the hardest moment of my life. Reality forced me against the wall, grabbing my throat and choking me to death. I clawed at it, trying to catch just one breath, but it was relentless and unforgiving. It wanted me to suffer. It wanted me to live with the guilt of surviving the impossible. They called it survivor's guilt and referred me to a counselor to get support, as if writing a prescription would pluck me from hell.
I had broken three ribs and an arm in the crash. With my insistence and Brandt's support and nothing life-threatening, I was discharged the following day with a recommendation for a psychiatrist and very little else.
Brandt and Grady walked away from the crash bruised, but nothing broken. They had ventured to the back of the train to get some drinks where the impact was just barely a bump in the night in comparison to the cars at the front that took the brunt of the head-on collision with the Metrolink train.
I was still in shock. I hadn't had time to process my family was gone. It hadn't hit me yet, and I was terrified for the moment it did.
I sat in a wheelchair outside the hospital, waiting for Brandt to pull the car around. It was a bright and sunny day, which felt wrong. It should have been dark and gloomy. It should have been grieving with the hundreds of others.
When Brandt pulled up to the curb, I didn't move. Not even a twitch. I just stared at the car in a daze, like I had no clue who he was. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Another label the doctor had given me. I had a feeling I would be piling on the labels in the coming weeks.
Brandt got out of the car and came to get me. He had changed. He walked with a slouch that reeked of sadness, and his eyes were hollow, no longer emitting their usual vitality. His world had changed just as quickly as mine. He lost both of his parents in the crash, but he still had his brother.
"I don't have them anymore." I gagged on my tears. My eyes were a broken dam now.
Brandt kneeled down and put his hand on my knee, but I didn’t want it there. I didn’t want to be comforted. I threw it off. "Don't," I said it calmly, but something was building inside me. "Don't do that." I was trying to hold back, but I wasn't the person I used to be. I didn't have the restraint I used to have. I had nothing. Through gritted teeth, I said, "You still have your brother. You still have someone." I was resentful and a million shades of screwed up. I stared at the balls my fists had made, turning my knuckles white from the strain. I tried to focus on them to keep me grounded.
"You still have me," he whispered, defeated.
My heart sank, and I crumbled in his arms. My soul was ripped from me and scattered around the debris field of the train wreck, but he was right.
I still had him.
I only had him.
He helped me into the car, and I drifted back into a daze as he drove away.
"I'm taking you back to my place."
I nodded. I couldn't go back to my parents’ house. Not now. Maybe never.
"Grady isn't doing so well, either, Bay. I don't know how to deal with all of this, but I'm trying. I'm going to do my best to be there for the both of you."
Tears streamed down as the impact of his words hit me hard. We were all broken. How were we going to get through this? How did people get through this? I chewed on my finger because I didn't know what else to do besides cry. I was eternally a shattered piece of a once whole person.
When we reached his apartment, I started to panic. "I can't go in. I can't, Brandt. I can't go in." I was shaking my head, still biting on my fingers and tears still flowing. Would they ever stop? I couldn't breathe. My chest felt heavy, and the pain from trying with broken ribs wasn't helping.
"Baylor, look at me. Look at me."
He grabbed my knee to get my attention, but it wasn't working. I was coughing now. "Ow. It hurts, Brandt. I can't breathe."
He hopped out of the car and ran over to my side and threw open the door, kneeling in front of me to be eye level.
"Dammit, Bay. Look at me so I can help you."
I rocked back and forth methodically, and I knew he was there, but his voice was difficult to hear through the pain screaming in my heart and the voices shouting in my head. I tried to bend down, but my ribs hurt too badly. "I can't do it. I can't do this. Please, don't make me do this. Please, don't."
He took my chin in his hands and forced me to look at him. He was crying, too. "Bay, come back to me, please. Look at me. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'm still here. Please, just see me. I'm right here."
And I did. I did see him. His voice was soothing the convulsions that had crushed my soul. I reached out and wiped a stream of tears from his face. "I can't go in," I stated more calmly now.
"Fine, Bay. We won't. We'll go to a hotel, but I need to make sure Grady's all right. Will you be okay if I leave you here for a few minutes?" He searched my eyes for certainty.
Knowing I didn't have to go into his apartment had eased the panic attack. It was my first one, but I doubted it would be my last. I nodded.
"I'll be back as fast as I can." He ran down the path.
I was alone.
I hadn't been alone yet, and it was absolutely suffocating.
I couldn't sit in the car alone in the silence, so I got out and hobbled across the lot to the open field where our giant tree stood tall and proud. It was the only one. A lone survivor. I rubbed its bark as I circled to the side where Brandt had engraved our initials. It hadn't changed while the rest of the world had. I traced the engraving, trying hard to remember the happiness that consumed me that night. Trying so hard to find something that would pull me from the darkness, but it had sucked me down into a cold, wretched hole where escaping was only for the strong, and I was far from it. I was weak and had no desire to fight.
People with hope fought.
People with purpose fought.
I surrendered.
"Bay?" Grady stood behind me.
I wasn't ready to face him. I wasn't ready to see my pain reflected in him. I wasn't ready for reality. As I turned around, I was devastated. Grady’s eyes adorned dark circles, and he carried himself like Brandt, slouching awkwardly. I couldn't speak. I just shook my head and let more sobs come as I fell into his arms. He held me tightly and wept with me. My ribs were throbbing from the pressure, but I didn't dare tell him. We needed this. We cried hard for a long time, not saying a word, just letting each other absorb the loss and fill the emptiness left in our hearts.
All three of us were unbreakably bonded and forever scarred. A family of eight was reduced to a family of three in a matter of seconds, and we were all that was left.
Numbing the Pain
WE CONVINCED GRADY to come with us to the hotel. He wanted to be alone, but I couldn't imagine him going through this without us, and being with Grady helped me. We both shared a love for Tessa that no one else besides my parents shared. The fog was slowly lifting from my head, allowing me to see that I wasn't the only one suffering. I didn't say anything to Brandt, but I noticed his beaten-up hands. He was grieving in his own way. I wished I could help him through it, but I couldn't even help myself right now.
We had to drive along the train tracks to the hotel. The intersection closest to the accident site was closed off with yellow caution tape and orange cones. I held my breath as I watched everything pass in slow motion. The sound of metal crashing echoed in my ears and then the screams and finally the silence. I could still taste the blood on my split lip and smell the dust and destruction. It all rushed back in a fury of rage. J
ust ahead, I noticed a crowd forming behind the tape that stretched for what seemed like a mile.
"Pull over," I said flatly.
"What?" Brandt responded.
"Bay, no," Grady demanded.
"Pull over!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I had this sudden longing that wouldn't subside unless I went back to the scene of the accident.
Brandt pulled to the side and tried to grab my arm before I launched out, but I was too fast. My ribs ached, and my casted arm felt heavy as I moved as fast as my body would physically let me move. I ducked under the tape, all the while hearing Brandt and Grady yelling after me. They would be on top of me in a matter of seconds, which made me that more determined to go faster. I could see the cleanup crew, police investigators, and coroners in front of me. A police officer caught sight of me and tried to wave me off, but I couldn't stop.
I needed to rescue my family.
They needed me.
The tears fell freely. I was disoriented and had no idea what car we had been traveling in, so I kept running toward the row of upturned cars where the crews were focusing their rescue efforts. Rescue. That had to mean there were still survivors.
They could still be alive.
I dodged the police officer waving me off but stopped short when I saw two coroners carrying a body bag. They looked at me, confused. My chest hurt. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were blurring, and my knees buckled. A pair of hands caught me from behind, crushing my ribs, but preventing me from hitting the ground. People were yelling all around me, but I couldn't discern a coherent word, because their voices all rushed together.
Why didn't they understand?
I just needed to get to them.
I needed to save them.
"Let go!" I screamed as I tried to fight my way out of Brandt's arms.
"Baylor, stop," Brandt said sternly as his grip tightened.