Blind girl run

  "I can't." I said. 

  "Yes, you can." My father said, "Your body will tell you where to go." 

  I felt the need to point out that was what he said last time, and we both knew how that turned out. 

  "Listen, smell, feel. You've got this." Dad said. 

  I closed my eyes, even though I didn't need to. I sniffed the air, taking in all I could. 

  I couldn't believe I had let him convince me to do this. This was crazy. This was how this happened last time, and then I could actually see where I was going. 

   "I'll be back at the apartment. Try not to trip." He said then I felt a breeze and I knew I was alone. 

   "Ok, this is ok. This is fine. This is crazy. Ok, 3, 2, 1 go, I guess." I told myself. 

   I didn't exactly feel like spending the night out here, so I took off running. 

   I took in the smells with every breath. Dust, dirt, and the faint smell of water. I heard every little thing. The faint sound of the city ahead, the sound of my feet smacking against the ground. I felt my feet hitting the ground with every step. 

   Then I tripped, of course I tripped, because my dad was crazy thinking I could run that far at top speed without tripping. 

   "Ow." I said after I stopped bouncing and rolling. 

   I felt up and down my body carefully. Nothing seemed broken or bleeding too badly, and it didn't hurt like crazy, so I got back up. It wasn't like last time. Last time dad told me he had been more scared than ever. Last time, everything hurt like crazy. Last time, there was blood. Last time, I wound up in the hospital and lost my vision. 

   I started running again, tripping again. Man, this hurt. I got up again and tripped again. This time, I didn't get back up, I was pretty sure I broke something. 

   I lay there for quite a while before forcing myself up, wondering how dad wasn't looking for me. Did he even care if I died out here? Ok, that was stupid. 

   I could barely stand on my busted up leg, and I figured it was broken. I fell back down and cried. 

   After a while, I smelled the scent of panic, and I knew dad was close. I screamed for him. 5 seconds later, I felt a hand on my arm. 

   "Well, that doesn't look good." He said. 

  "Uppy?" I asked and put my arms up in the general direction of my dad. 

   He picked me up and ran me to the hospital for the 2nd time this year. It was broken in 5 places. 

   "3rd cast and 5th surgery in one year. That's something." Dad said. 

   When I got home, I curled up on the couch next to him. He put on my favorite movie, I couldn't see it, but I listened and closed my eyes. I didn't mind if he watched movies I had seen before, as long as he didn't leave me. Dad signed my cast and then ran the pen on my skin so I could feel the signature and 'read' the words with my skin. 

   I'm so sorry, baby girl. Tough year, huh? I love you, Jazzy. I'll always be here for you.

-Daddy

   I almost started crying. 

   A few months after I got my cast off, I, for some reason, convinced my father to let me go for an actual run. I had been running on the speed adjusting treadmill that could reach my superspeed speeds. He went with me. 

   Before I broke my leg, he had been going with me on my runs. Until he apparently decided that I could run by myself. 

   He held my hand as we ran, matching my speed. It was much safer this way. I focused on listening to all the sounds, feeling the ground under my feet, and smelling everything. Like Dad kept saying, over and over again, so far, I don't think it worked like he thought it would. 

   Superspeeders often had an increased sense of spatial awareness and required all their senses working together. 

   Dad seemed determined that I was going to know how to run by myself without tripping. The training also involved talking. (Funny, I thought I finished my training years ago). Dad would give me tips, he would close his eyes and run for a while. 

   He tripped a few times while running with his eyes closed. I could hear him hit the ground. 

   "Ow. Oh man, I don't think I've done that in years." He groaned. "Ugh. I think I need a milkshake. How about you?" 

   I heard the small sound of fabric rustling like he was moving his arm around. I nodded and sniffed the air. 

   "Are you ok?" I asked. 

   "Yup. Mostly anyway." He said. "Let's go get milkshakes." 

   I ran with dad back to the city and we got milkshakes. There were no cars on this planet, (besides of course for spaceships), because there was no need for them. 

   I sat on the bench and tasted the sweetness of my milkshake. The wind was blowing my hair all around. There were many smells and sounds all around me. I tuned most of them out. 

   Ever since the accident I had been home schooled (probably the only good thing that came out of this) because I don't think Dad was all that excited to let me out of his sight. My confidence level had dropped significantly after what happened. Not only because I couldn't see anything but because I had been doing something I had thought I was really good at. I hadn't tripped in 5 years before the accident. Tripping was something super speeders could not afford to do. Even if you didn't get seriously hurt, your body would still hurt for quite a while. 

   After our milkshakes we went back to the apartment. The next day we went back out. 

   "Honey, I want to try something. I'll go a mile away. Run to me." Dad told me. 

   I gulped. I felt a breeze and I knew he was gone. Taking several deep breaths I took off running. 

   Feel the ground under your feet. Take in the scents around you. I thought as I ran. I focused on my feet, how they were hitting the ground. On the smells around me and where they were telling me to go. A few seconds later I reached my father (although it felt a lot longer). 

   "Good job." He said and hugged me. I hugged back. 

   "Wanna try going 2 miles?" Dad asked. 

   "Um…sure?" I pretty much asked. 

   He took off. After a few seconds I ran after him. I made it that time too. Another hug. 

   "Are you up for 3 miles?" He asked. 

   I nodded. I was feeling pretty good. Maybe I'd be able to do this after all. 

   He took off and after a minute so did I, but I wasn't counting on a rock. I tripped and fell head over heels, rolling for several seconds. After I stopped rolling I started crying. 

   Nothing seriously hurt and I didn’t think I was bleeding, but I just wasn't expecting that and I really wanted my dad. A few seconds later I felt a hand on my arm and I jumped. 

   "Shh. Shh. It's just me. It's ok Jazzy. It's ok." Dad whispered to me. 

   I felt around for a minute, before my hand hit his leg, and then I crawled into his lap. I was glad the only person around was my father, because I was still crying. I wasn't even hurt and I was crying like a baby. Finally I stopped. 

  "I think we're done for the day." He said. 

  I just nodded and he helped me to my feet. 

  "I think you deserve a milkshake." My dad said. 

  I nodded and held his hand all the way back to town. It was about 17 miles (which of course was a few seconds for a super speeder). 

   "Maybe two." Dad said. 

   When I was in the hospital he would bring me a milkshake about 5 times a day. Bubbleberry Twists of course. 

   "Wanna go to Floater’s?" I asked my father. 

   "Hmm…" He trailed off and I could picture him tapping his chin about 15 more times than he needed to. "Sure." 

   For some reason I always preferred Floater’s to any other place. They had the best Bubbleberry Twists. He took me to Floater’s (which required leaving the planet) and we got our milkshakes and some burgers and fries. When we went home, I went to bed. 

   The next day Dad took me to his work. He'd been doing that alot lately. 

   He worked at a company that made braille books (ironic, right?). He had taught me braille while I was still in the hospital. So while he worked, I read. 

   My father had convinced my favorite author and his boss to publish my favorite books in braille a few weeks after I got out of the hospital. He also introduced me to my favorite author and his sons. 

   3 days in a row he took me to work with him. I was thinking we might never go back to training, and I was fine with that, but he took me back to the middle of nowhere again. 

   "Ok. I'll be half a mile away." He said and ran. 

   I took a deep breath and ran to my father. He kept doing that. I tripped the 4th time he did that. 2 miles. I really hated tripping. 

   The next day he didn't do that. Instead we ran together. He held my hand and we ran. I focused on my feet and when I got nervous I would give my father's hand a squeeze. That is what we did for 2 weeks. 

   Then one day during training something scary happened, something terrifying. I didn't get hurt, that wouldn't have been nearly as scary, as I was getting quite used to that. My dad got hurt. He had tried running with his eyes closed again. Don't ask me why. I heard the crash. 

   "Dad?" I asked. 

   No response. 

   "Dad?!" 

  Still nothing. 

  "Dad!!" 

   I waited and counted seconds. My heart was pounding. No response. 

  "DAD?!!!" 

   Nothing. I was officially freaking out. 

  "DAD!!!!" I screamed as loud as I could. 

  Nothing, no response at all. I didn't dare move, scared I'd never be able to find my way back or my dad. 

   "DAD!!!!! DAD!!!! DAD!!!! DADDY!!!" 

  Nothing, absolutely nothing. I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks. Where was he? 

  "Daddy?!" I tried again and started to cry. 

  Then there was a cough and a moan. My heart left in my chest. 

  "Daddy!" I exclaimed and let my nose follow the sound. 

   I sniffed the air. If he was close enough to hear him, then he was close enough to smell him. I caught his scent and clung to it, letting my feet do the rest. 

  I dropped to my knees and felt around the ground, until my hand hit something. I felt it. Fabric filled by an leg. There was a low moan of pain and my heart skipped a beat. 

  "Daddy?" I just about squeaked. 

   "Jazz. Hey there Jazzy." He said, his voice was soft but laced in pain. 

   I noticed that the leg felt wet and sticky. 

  "You're bleeding." I whispered. 

  For some reason this had never entered my mind as a possibility, and with the amount of times I had gotten hurt you would've thought it would. 

   "I'm ok." Dad said. 

   "Can you walk?" I asked. 

   There was a grunt and then a sigh. 

   "No." He said. 

   I had super senses as well as superspeed, so I could smell his emotions. He smelled like fear. 

  Another sigh. 

  "I can't believe I forgot my watch." He groaned. 

   I grabbed my own wrist just to see if I had mine, which wasn't very likely considering I never wore it anymore. Unfortunately I was right and it wasn’t there. 

   "Ok sweetie, listen very carefully, I want you to run back to the city and get some help." He told me, and right about now I didn't even care that he was talking to me like I was 5. 

   "Daddy." I whimpered. 

   "Come here." He said and grabbed my hand. 

   I cuddled up beside him, hating that I couldn't see him and terrified of what I would find if I could. He ran his hand through my hair and kissed my forehead. 

  "It's ok. It's gonna be ok Jazzy." He whispered. "You're gonna have to get back to the city somehow." 

   What was he saying? I wasn't even sure I wanted to know what he meant. 

   "Daddy." I cried and buried my head in his chest. 

   "Shh. Shh. It's gonna be ok." 

   How did this even happen? 

   He coughed and I realized that I needed to do this. I wanted to stay here forever in my father's embrace. Unfortunately I knew neither of us could wait that long. Planet Breezer, where we lived, was almost completely desert. The sun was beating down hard. It was perfect for running, not so much for sitting. 

   I managed to calm myself down and got to my feet. 

   "You've got this. Just remember, smell your surroundings, feel the ground under your feet, and listen." Dad said. 

   I sniffled and nodded. I'm pretty sure flying would be easier than super speeding, unfortunately I couldn't fly. If I could fly there would be much less chance of running into something. 

   I took a deep breath and took off running. Every step I took was a toss up between whether my foot would hit the ground or not. 

   I made sure to feel the ground when my foot hit and repeat the action with the next step. I listened to my surroundings more carefully than ever. I listened to the sound my foot made when it hit the ground. I could hear a waterfall probably 70 some miles away, which meant there was a city 50 or 60 miles away. I took in all the scents I could. 

   My heart was pounding out of my chest. It felt like the longest run of my life and I tripped about 5 times, but finally I made it to the city. I knew I was in the middle of the city because of the explosion of noise and smells. 

   I stopped running and let out the loudest scream I could. I screamed again, this time quieter and much more girly. My screams instantly got people's attention. It wasn't every day a teenage girl came running into the middle of a city and just started screaming her head off. 

   I felt someone grab me and ask what was wrong. Someone else asked my name, and another person asked why I was covered in dirt and blood. 

   I started crying. There were like 10 people screaming at me at the same time, I couldn't see any of them, and I was terrified my dad was dying. 

   "Woe! Woe! One at a time! One at a time! You're scaring her half to death!" Someone yelled. 

   I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder and force my head up, presumably so I would have to look at them. 

   "Sweetheart, can you tell me your name?" The man said. 

   "Jasmine." I cried. 

   "Ok, what happened to you Jasmine?" He asked in a kind and gentle voice. 

   "My dad. My dad got hurt." I cried. 

   "Then why are you covered in blood and dirt?" Someone else asked. 

   "I tripped 5 times." I sniffled. 

   There was murmuring in the crowd. No one ever tripped that much. No one ever tripped. 

   "Sweetie, can you look at me?" The kind man asked. 

   I wasn't sure where to look. 

   "Please help my daddy." I whimpered. 

   "We're gonna, but first we need to take care of you. Can you look at me? How many fingers am I holding up?" 

   I shook my head and let a few tears roll down my cheeks. 

   "I'm blind. Please, my dad needs help." I whimpered. 

   There was suddenly an explosion of whispers. 

   "Quiet!" The man yelled. 

   I guessed he must be mayor or something because most everyone shut up. 

   "Where's your dad sweetie?" He asked me. 

   "About 65 miles away." I told him. 

   More whispers. Stuff like, "A blind girl ran how far?" 

  The man told someone to take care of me, and then started barking out orders. 

   "Ok, sweetie. Come with me." A woman said and led me away from the crowd and into a building. "Why don't you just sit down here?" 

   I felt a couch and sat down. 

   "Ok, let's get you cleaned up." 

  She cleaned the wounds I had apparently gotten when I tried those 5 times and offered me a pair of clean clothes. 

  Her name was Gina. She was the man's wife. 

  I fell asleep on her couch. I woke up to the door opening. 

  "How is she?" The kind man asked. 

  "She'll be just fine." Gina told him. "Did you find her dad?" 

   "Yup." He said and suddenly I was wide awake. 

   "How is he?" I asked. 

   "Hyped up on pain medicine. He's been asking for you for an hour." The man said and was on my feet. 

   He led me to what I guessed was my father's hospital room. 

   "Jazzy. Come here baby girl." Dad said and I found my way to him. He grabbed my hand and I sat beside him. 

   "I did it daddy." I said and hugged him. 

   "I knew you could." He told me and kissed my forehead. "I knew you could, Jazzy."