Everyone waits excitedly this time of the year. The best time of the year as they say. I wish it was the same for me.
My name is Naila and I’m 18 years old. I live in a mansion with my aunt as my parents died 2 years ago in a car accident while returning home from their work journey to celebrate Christmas. They had promised me that they would celebrate my 16th Birthday and Christmas that year. But unfortunately they didn’t keep their promise.
7/12/2016
‘’Yes, sweetheart, we’ll be there on your birthday this year. We promise that. We love you’’
‘’Love you too, Mum’’
We were decorating the house that day with my aunt. I wanted everything to be perfect when mum and dad returned home. It had been two months since the last time I had seen them. I missed them so much.
We finished decorating the tree and the house outside. Everything was so wonderful; I could have stared at them all day and night.
I was so happy for this Christmas. I had, however, a bad feeling that I couldn’t explain it.
The days passed quickly and before I realised it, it was 23d of December. It was eight o’clock in the evening and I was cooking dinner with my aunt as my parents were due to arrive any time soon. At least, that’s what we thought.
They were already two hours late and we were starting to get worried. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was Mum’s number. I answered but I didn’t hear my mothers sweet voice. Instead, a deep man voice talked to me and told me the news I wish no one ever hears about their loved ones. His words filled me with anguish. I didn’t answer. Not a single word came out of my mouth. Only tears were streaming down my cheeks, burning my flesh as if they were made of fire. The phone fell from my hands and on to the floor. I couldn’t move. I just stood there, looking at the wall tears still rolling down my face. My aunt was asking me what had happened but I was unable to repeat what I had heard. She took the phone and talked to the police officer. He explained to her how the accident had happened. Their hearts had stopped beating on the way to the hospital.
I sat on the sofa still feeling emotional and physical pain. I didn’t speak. I just blinked my eyes. I stayed like that all night and at the funeral the next day. I didn’t celebrate my birthday or Christmas. Nor the next year. Nor this year.











