---------------------------------- 2 ------------------------------------ Echo thought back to the day it happened. The call. Her mother disappearing into her room. The call. Tears. The call. The somber police officer. The call. The call. The call. The call. In the days after, it didn't seem real, no, it wasn't real. How, just days before, had her father been bright, happy, so full of life. Why had she done it. Why had she let her father pull out of the driveway, in the old, rusty Volkswagen he was so proud of. Because how could she have known. It was just a trip to the grocery store. So normal. How would she have thought twice about it. How could she have known. How could she have known about the speeding silver pickup truck, the truck that crashed right into her dads car. How could she have known she would never see him again. The funeral was the worst. The funeral had made it all really. So. So. Real. That was the night her mother started drinking. Echo understood. She wanted to forget, they both did. If only for a little while. She had a shift that night. She had climbed out her bedroom window, she ran through the forest, she didn't know where she was going, but it felt right. When she had thrown her head back at screamed. Screamed for all she had lost. And for all she would never have. Then the tears came. The tears that she had been holding in all day. She felt trapped. So. So trapped.
First - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1097266915/
