Scarlett.

It's the last softball game of my junior year. We are playing against Douglas High today, which is only about an hour away from my hometown and both of my parents said that they would be here.

I glance one more time in the bleachers and I still don't see my parents, just the two recruiters that stand out with their clipboards and pens, and my brother Seth, who lives here in Douglas. One more strike and this girl is out, and we win the game.

I look back at the batter who is literally sweating bullets and looks determined to hit this last pitch, but I'm equally determined to end this game.

I can't believe my parents didn't show up to my last game of the season.

I bend down to rub some more dirt on the tips of my fingers, something I picked up over the years after throwing with my dad. It gives me slight comfort and helps me control the ball better. I can still hear my dad, "Some people that play pool, use chalk for their hands. You and I, we use dirt for ball." This is the logical explanation as to why we always do this weird thing, like a ritual that we share.

I grip the softball in my hand and turn it as I look at my catcher, who signals for me to throw a curve. I nod at the catcher and stand on the mound, ready to throw my favorite pitch, which happens to be my best one.

I look once more at the batter and then back to my catcher, throwing my arm in a circular motion, pushing myself off the mound with one foot and dragging the other. I release the ball with a flick of my wrist, aiming for the glove that is 43 feet directly in front of me.

The sound that the ball makes when a fastpitch hits straight into a glove sounds like heaven to any pitcher, one of my favorite sounds in the world. "STRIKE! You're out!" The umpire yells. My ears ring at the amazing sound, and I close my eyes briefly, smiling and knowing that we just won.

I rejoice with the rest of my team in the middle of the field as we huddle in a circle, jumping up and down with glee. I look up, glancing at my coach as he is staring back at me with wary eyes, while an Officer is conversing with him. My stomach turns, it's not a look that I'm used to receiving from coach, especially since we just won.

"Scarlett, coach needs to speak with you," Marissa says to me as she walks up to join in on the celebration.

"Is everything okay?" It was a good game. We won 11-2 and usually, I would be yelling and shouting with my team, but something doesn't feel right.

"Umm, yeah I'm sure it is. You just kicked some ass girl. Those recruiters were impressed no doubt."

I thank Marissa for her kind words, while everyone starts packing their bags to get on the bus to head back home. I nervously went to look for the coach, and when I find him, he is standing with an Officer outside the locker rooms.

Seth is standing to the side, covering his face and shaking his head frantically, while conversing with another Officer. Something definitely isn't right as my heart drops like a dead weight. Seth makes eye contact with me; his eyes are bloodshot and his face red. I watch as he shakes his head slowly, holding his intense stare, which tells me something bad has happened.

"Coach Benson," I mumble. "What's going on?"

I start to bite the inside of my cheek to calm my nerves. My thoughts take off in all directions, worrying to the degree that I make myself nauseous, something I do quite often. I'm like my mother in that way, but after seeing Seth like that, I know that I need to prepare myself.

I look at the Officer, who is in a professional stance with his feet apart, nodding his head at my coach. Coach Benson can barely make eye contact with me as he glances over at Seth before finally giving me the same wary eyes that I have seen, not even minutes prior.

"Scarlett, I am so sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this." He is searching for words as I wait impatiently with the pounding of my heart inside my chest. No conversation that starts like this is ever good. I gulp, not ready for what I am about to hear.

"Scarlett, it's your parents. I'm truly sorry Scarlett, but they were involved in an accident, and they didn't make it." As soon as the words fall from his lips, the blood drains from my face, making me lightheaded.

No. No. No. This isn't happening.

"No." I shake my head frantically, tears falling from my eyes. "That can't be. Seth!" I scream.

The girls getting on the bus stop their giggling and all look at me; not realizing they are celebrating a win, while my entire life is being completely shattered right in front of them. Seth runs over to me and wraps his arms around me, tears streaming down my cheeks as my trembling knees drop to the floor.

He begins to talk to me, his voice sounding distant and confusing. I watch his lips moving, but I can't seem to make out the words. I shudder as I imagine a picture of my parents, smiling like they usually do until the image starts to shatter into a million shards.

I feel nauseous, and everything surrounding me starts spinning. It's like someone just kicked me in the gut, taking all the air out of me. I try to stand up, losing my balance as I stagger towards Seth, my legs wobbling beneath me as my surroundings begin to spin faster and rapidly out of my control. Then everything goes completely dark.

I wake up to what sounds like a faint vacuum and I'm blinded by the fluorescent lights hanging over me, reflecting off of the white walls. Fully aware of the blood pressure cuff that is stapped onto my arm, I look around until I spot my brother and his girlfriend, Valerie. Seth's hands are covering his face while Valerie is rubbing his back. I sit up, realizing that I'm sitting in a hospital bed and my head is throbbing.

"Seth?" I call him hoarsely. Seth looks up at me, and I see him quickly wipe his tear-stained cheeks before standing up and walking over to me. It's that precise moment when I remember my coach's words, "They didn't make it."

I put my hand out as if to stop Seth from walking to me, shaking my head. "Seth, are mom and dad? Are they.....they can't really be gone?" I need answers, I don't want to believe the coach's words.

I start crying again as he looks at me and nods. My chest tightens, restricting the amount of air I breathe.

How can this happen? Why did this happen? When?

Questions start invading my thoughts as I wait for answers.

"I was looking for them during my game, and they never showed up, Seth. They were on the way to my game, weren't they?" I stutter, my bottom lip quivering.

I watch Seth as his eyes dart to Valerie and then back to me. I can tell he is battling with himself on telling me the truth. "Answer me!" I demand, a sob escaping my dry lips. "Is it my fault they are dead?" I choke as more tears escape from the corner of my eyes.

Seth looks at the ground, trying to hold it together. I then hear him take a deep breath and he looks up, meeting my eyes before he grabs my hand. He is trying to fight back the tears, wanting to be strong for me, but I can see the pain behind my brother's eyes. There is no need for him to hide behind a facade.

"They were on the way to your game when the accident happened, Scar, but it isn't in any way your fault, so don't even think or say that shit," he says before continuing, struggling to complete the rest of the sentence. "The other driver that ran into them was completely intoxicated and was driving a truck. They died on impact and..."

I take a sharp intake of air, feeling my heart shatter all over again from his words. All that is left is a gaping hole where my heart had once been. My mind is going into overdrive as I question why this happened. Why them? My eyes keep shifting side to side, trying to put it all together, but I can't.

This is my fault. It's all my fucking fault. Everything surrounding me begins to spin again, the darkness returns, yet everything is beyond my control. My mind can't process any of this, nor can my heart, longing to see mom and dad once more. My bones start to fucking ache, a crawling sensation spreads up my arms, knowing this is all my fault, no matter what Seth says.

If I didn't beg them to make it to my last game, they would still be alive. My dad had even taken time off work because I kept asking for them to please come, knowing that the recruiters were going to be there.

"Did he....did the other driver live?" I continue asking questions that I'm not sure I want the answers to.

"Yes," Seth replies, nodding his head slowly. "He lived". His voice toneless and cold, sending shivers up my spine.

I know I was raised better than this, but when Seth tells me that the other driver lived, rage and disappointment consume me. I'm selfish to even think about this, but why should he deserve to live, while my parents are gone because of him? I don't even care to know the man's name because the resentment and hatred are far too deep for taking away my parents and destroying our lives.

"I hope that drunk murderer rots in prison. He doesn't deserve to live." I say with hatred in my voice. I'm hyperventilating after the words escape my mouth, and my throat tightens, making it hard to breathe. My hospital gown is getting soaked with my tears as I lay motionless, comprehending what just happened.

Seth looks stunned by my words as a tear escapes down his cheek. I never talk like that, but something in me died, along with my parents. As we sit in silence, sobbing, I realize from this point on, that our lives have changed completely.