My Last Goodbye was Just the Beginning

I held my mom’s hand tightly, tears glistening on my cheeks. The slow steady beeping of the heart-rate monitor and the hum of the instruments keeping her alive haunted me. I heard shallow, ridgid breaths and saw her chest gently rise and fall. One nod from the doctor and I knew it was time. I crouched near the hospital bed and stroked my Mom’s hair, for the last time. Her eyes slowly opened revealing her bloodshot, deep blue eyes that I inherited. She spoke quietly, barely a whisper. 

“Rachel”, she barely managed. “Remember I love you, and I will always be with you. Do what you love, never let anyone tell you otherwise. Be strong.”

I could barely see through my tears, but smiled and said “I love you Mom, I will make you proud”

A faint whisper of a ‘goodbye’ barely reached her lips as her eyes closed and the heart monitor went flat with an ear-piercing, doom sound that haunted me. Suddenly, my eyes flew open. I was covered in sweat with puffy eyes from the nightmare that had been plaguing me ever since my mother’s death, 2 months ago. Soon after she died, I was thrown into foster care, with no other family that cared about me. Soon after a long, dreadful month in the home, I finally escaped. I had been on the streets of Miami ever since. It had been a tough month, although I had never had an abundance of food, I had never starved either. It really made you appreciate what things you had, even if they were little. With a shrug, I slinked out of my sleeping bag and sat in my make-shift chair near a dead campfire under Walken’s Bridge. Thankfully, before my dad died, he taught me to make a fire when we went camping. I remembered him saying Rachel, if you ever find yourself in a hard situation, make the best of it and make fire.’ My naive 5 year-old-self always used to laugh at that, but now I thank him in the heavens. 

Because my dad died when I was only eight years old, it had always just been me and my mom. She was never home, always working in the supermarket, trying to make a sustained living for me. It hurt too badly, to recall all the family I once had and lost. Instead I pulled myself out of the river of memories and made a fire with my latest meal: a leftover hamburger. I tried not to think of where the meat came from or why it was thrown to the dumpsters, instead I cooked it and swallowed. Today, I decided I would take a walk to the main square in town and pick up any spare change from non-expecting tip jars. I followed along my usual path along the river, but before I could cross the bridge, I heard shuffling. I whipped my head around to see a massive, 14 foot alligator staring me down. Before I could blink, he latched on to my foot and was dragging me into the water. I screamed and tried to grab onto something for leverage. But it was happening all too quickly. Soon I was in the water, struggling for air. I smelled blood, but didn’t want to look for the source. Eyes, I thought. I need to find the eyes and hurt them. But I couldn’t see anything in the murky water besides blood. I saw the blood and knew I was losing it fast. If I didn’t act fast I would soon bleed out. Before I could even think, words of ancient Greek left my mouth. The alligator unclamped its jaws and spit me out. I swam as fast as I could to the shore. After I was safely on shore I looked in the water for my attacker. All I could see was a calm sheet of water. It was almost as if nothing ever happened, but the gushing deep wound on my leg said otherwise. I took off my shirt and wrapped it around, securing it with the string from my sleeping bag. The blood quickly saturated my Rolling Stones T-shirt, but I was alive. However not for long. I knew that I had to get medical help, but how. I couldn’t go to the hospital because I had no money or means to get there. I had no relatives or friends to care, I was alone. 

Suddenly, as if a sixth sense was taking control, I had an idea. The logical side of my brain thought it was crazy and just blood loss messing up my head. The other half propelled my aching arms to unwrap the bandage. The deep punctures made me vomit to the side, but I continued unwrapping. Before I could change my mind, a word sprung from my lips: θεραπεύω. I had no idea what it meant or how I knew it, but suddenly, the wounds started closing. Despite my disgust, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the miraculous sight. Layers of muscle, skin, and tissue whipped together and in about 10 seconds, the wound was gone without even a scar. I thought about what I did to the alligator that was there one second, and went the next. The same thing happened to my leg.

Although the physical lesion was gone, the entire experience left me exhausted. I curled up in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes in a second. It was the first night I had not had my mother’s death in my nightmares. My eyes flitted open and I almost forgot my experience the day before. I vaguely recalled an alligator and ancient Greek but quickly pushed the thoughts from my mind. The second I lifted my head, a wave of hunger washed over me. I built my fire and ate expired cheez-itz, nabbed a few days ago from an unsuspecting family that left their food to go play in the park. Despite their wide array of sandwiches, snacks, and desserts, I decided to take something they probably wouldn’t even know was gone. I tried to only steal what I needed because, despite my hunger, I knew it wasn’t right. My mind took another dive ina river of memories and recalled the time when I was only 6 and stole a candy bar from a store. We could never afford sweets, and as a little kid, I could not understand that. When my mom realized what I had done, she marched me back to the store to return it, apologizing. She told me that she wasn’t mad, but that I should never steal because the ‘gods’ would punish me. As I got older I started to realize that she mentioned the ‘gods’ a lot. I never understood what she meant and when I asked her she said “one day you will understand”. It used to bother me a lot so I just ignored her when I got older. I guess I will never know now.

Suddenly, a rustle of branches stirred me out of my daydream. A flash of white shown through the dense forest surrounding the river. I felt like I was being watched. Before I could react, the ground started shaking. There were no earthquakes in Florida, or so I thought. I ran to the bridge and held on to the base. A giant figure rose from the ground. It was a woman, I think, clothed in white robes, a war helmet on her head, and a massive spear in her hand. Strangely this wasn’t even the weirdest part, the behemouth owl as big as me sitting on her shoulder was. Or so I thought. When the giant figure bellowed 

“You are the chosen one.”

That may have taken the cake.