The Heart Can See, Kendyl Stewart [short novels in english .txt] 📗

PROLOGUE


When I was twelve, my life changed. Changed when I least expected it. Changed when everything was actually perfect to me. Changed when I really didn't want it to.
My dad was driving us to our relatives that lived somewhere in the mountains, Grace and Harry. Uncle Harry was the coolest uncle that I could ask for. He was a big, muscular, burly man with a dark brown curly head of hair (you could see a lot of gray approaching though) and a scrappy beard. His usual outfit was a long sleeved orange and brown plaid shirt with blue jean overalls and hiking boots. Every time I looked at him, the first thing that popped into my mind was a lumberjack.
He took me hunting during the time he said all of the deer and wild turkey were out and roaming about the meadows and woods. And sometimes he would even teach me how to hotwire a car, which my dad nor mom approved of, but that made it even more fun. We were extremely close. Uncle Harry knew nearly everything about me; he was the most kind-hearted person I knew, and it was so easy to trust him.
And then there was Aunt Grace. She was just wierd. Even though the couple was in their early fifties, Aunt Grace looked like she was in her late sixties. She had a silver nest of hair that was quite shiny I had to admit. She wore thin rimmed glasses that touched the tip of her long and pointy witch-like nose. I swear her big blue eyes would practically glare at me for every small movement I made. Her casual outfit would usually be a simple dress with patterned flowers on it. She was completely nothing like Uncle Harry. While he was all involved in outdoors and such, She wouldn't come within a mile of a living animal... or dead at that. The only reason that they lived in the mountains was for Uncle Harry. Aunt Grace lived her life indoors. Who knows why they are in love. Opposites attract, I guess?
Anyway, we were on our way to their house and I was sitting shotgun in our family SUV while Dad was driving. My mom was away on a business trip to New York for her job as a journalist. She got offered to be one of the New York Times

top notch journalists. She had to go there for an interview and wouldn't be back until Monday.
An old classical song from somewhere back in the 70's was playing. It was about a guy who lost his pet pig in the desert... or something like that. I probably heard it wrong. Creativity in people these days, geez. It was early in the afternoon during the beginning of summer. The date was June 19, 2005. The sun was glowing a strongly lit bright yellow in a clear baby blue sky with only a couple clouds to accompany it. My sunglasses were on to shield my bright blue eyes from the blinding sun. The windows were rolled down and the wind was whipping my long dirty blonde hair wildly and my bare feet were resting on the dashboard.
I got tempted several times to reach out and change the station to give my ears a break from this boring music. But I kept stopping myself short because it seemed to please my dad; he kept bobbing his head up and down with a smile on his face. And then he glanced at me and sang along with the words in an off pitched tune. Now that I had to laugh at. He looked funny and so full of energy.
"I should have figured you knew this song, old man." I teased with a grin.
"Hey now, little lady. Everyone knows about the lost desert pig." He said with taunting narrowed eyes, but he couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"Right dad because people actually listen to this stuff."
"Actually I used to listen to this a lot as a kid." Now he was serious. Uh-oh. I turned my head so he couldn't see me giggle. "What's so funny?" He asked with a smile.
"Oh, nothing." I said raising my eyebrows with my mouth turned up at the corners. I slid off my sun glasses and put them in the cup holders between our two seats.
We were on the highway going 80 miles per hour, and as we kept on driving into the mountains, our ears began to pop. We rolled up the windows and settled on the air conditioning instead.
Dad turned on his right turn signal to go into the other lane. He used his rear view mirror to look if any cars were coming. I guess he didn't look well enough.
And from there it all happened so fast. He didn't see his blind spot, and the massive Utz Potato co. truck was right there. He turned right. Thank god for the seat belts the hugged around our bodies. The collision jolted me so badly especially since it was on my side. It was worse than hitting your head on the sharp corner of a table. And trust me, I know from my 8th birthday party. It shook my whole body and I couldn't find the air around me to suck in. I felt sharp pain in my sides and in my legs but especially my head. My eyes were sealed shut and I tried to scream for my daddy. I wanted him to be safe and out of here, but he was stuck in it just as much as I was. I always heard from people how being in a car crash was similar to being in a roller coaster. False statement. My neck snapped forward, but was stopped by the airbag that had exploded out, and my limbs were being tossed around like an abused ragdoll. The seat belts were digging into my stomach and shoulder. Gravity was taking over but we were in the same place. I couldn't hear anything. All I knew was that I was going to die. Or at least, I wanted to. It would be so much better than this. And out of no where, a gust of air went into my lungs and I managed to scream for dad... no answer. And the a searing pain went through my shoulder to my neck. I screamed for help. And finally I did something I should have never in a million years done in this accident. I found the strength to open my eyes.
Everything around me was blurring and spinning in circles. We were rolling. Still. And who ever would have known theat at that very second, that would be the last time that I would ever get to see the color blue again. Or red. Or pink. Or any other color that you could possibly think of. Who knew that what I saw through my eyes that very day, that very second, would be the last thing I would ever see?
Two sharp pains went through both of my eyes. I screamed bloody murder. It was worse than the pain in my head, or the pain in my shoulder. I screamed for my dad again and This time I heard him shout something that I could clearly make out.
"India!"
And then we stopped. My breath was back more than it was before. My shoulder was seething with pain and my head hurt like crazy. But my eyes were by far the worst and I dare not open them. I could barely hear myself scream. The last thing I remember thinking was for god to help me. I was always a huge believer in him, and I needed him more than ever now. Sirens were wailing from a distance and getting louder with each passing second.
And then, against my will, I slipped into unconsiousness.


CHAPTER 1


"Sit." I commanded my seeing-eye dog Marley. I got the name from the movie Marley and Me.

Although I couldn't see the pictures of the movie, I could hear it nice and clearly. I cried almost every second. And every second I would touch my face to feel the wet dripping tears sliding down my cheeks.
I held a dog treat that felt long with to humps on either end. I kept fidgeting with it in between my fingers, and felt the the tiny crumbs escape. I was standing in the kitchen with only my mom. I saw nothing. I saw no colors. No furniture, no shapes, no nothing, but pitch black. I hated it. I had to live my life by hearing and feeling. Something I hated to do. It was hard to enjoy the times in my life from when I became blind in both eyes when I was twelve in a car crash. Two shards of sharp glass went into both eyes. Along with that, I went into a coma for four days and broke my collar bone. Yay.
It absolutely wasn't my place to complain. I lost my sight that day, but more importantly, I had lost my father. He was dead when the ambulance pulled him out of the awful scene. They tried shocking him back-- but with no luck. My heart is hurt much more than my eyes.
Ever since, my mom has been trying her hardest to be the toughest soldier to present me. You don't have to have vision to know that she hurts for her husband and for my sight day after day. With each sentence comes pure softness, but I can clearly hear the pain behind her words. I try my hardest to do anything to cheer her up, but you can only do so much while blind.
I have been learning to live with it now that I am seventeen, but that doesn't make me like it any more. I am starting to forget what my mom or even myself look like. And I'm going to sleep at night with the sounds of my own muffled sobs ringing in my ears.
"Is he sitting?" I whispered to no one in particular.
"Yes, honey." My mom's gentle voice replied.
"Good boy, Marley!" I said in approval. I reached down my hand in front of me and felt ticklish whiskers and a wet slobbery tounge carefully snatch the dog treat from my fingers. I bent down into a squat and reached both of my hands out until I felt the familiar soft fur of my dog. I felt around until I found his ears, and when I thought I did, I scratched. I could hear his level beating huff echoing around me.
"He's a good dog." My mom cooed now right beside me. I felt her warm hands petting Marley too.