Fractured Read online

  Her tiny body is drowning in the oversized hospital gown. She’s covered in grazes, and her leg is bandaged just above the knee. Her short brown pixie haircut is disheveled, and matted with dust. Our eyes meet, hers streaked with tears, red and glassy.

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she whispers in a strained voice.

  I sit down next to her gently, taking her hand in mine, squeezing my eyes closed and shaking my head. “You’re not. I can’t sleep anyway.”

  Those were the only words we exchanged initially, both sensing the unnecessary need for speech amidst the anguish of mutual loss, which permeates the room. Eventually she passes the dog-eared photograph to me. My hand shakes as I take it from her. A tall, handsome man wearing rugby gear with a splitting grin looks back up at me. My throat closes. Another face to add to the rapidly climbing number of victims.

  “My brother, Thomas,” she offers, her voice hitching once more.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper softly, placing the photo next to her hand.

  She takes a stilted breath.

  “Yeah. I overheard you and your mum earlier. I’m so sorry about your loss, too. I’m Melanie.”

  My lip trembles as I answer her. “I’m Kate.”

  We spend a while together sharing tears, and the events that had led to us both being in hospital. I learn that she was on a lunch break when the quake struck, visiting her brother in his small photographic studio in the CBD. She was knocked unconscious when the building imploded. He never made it out alive. Melanie had to be dug out. Aside from some scrapes, bruises, and a few deep cuts, physically she was okay. I’m fairly sure this won’t be the last occasion I share in somebody else’s sorrow.

  God, Danny. I miss you so.

  Chapter 3

  NUMBNESS

  ~ Kate, 26 February 2011. Day 4 post quake ~

  I was discharged from hospital yesterday, escaping with a fractured arm, mild concussion, a gash on my head, and multiple lacerations to the left side of my body and face. My left arm is in a cast, hitched up in a sling and my forearm throbs painfully. Thick gauze still covers my cheek where I received five stitches to a deep cut.

  I’m what so many are referring to as “lucky”, a “survivor”.

  What those close to me can’t comprehend, is that the title “survivor” brings bile to my throat, whenever I hear it used in reference to those of us who’ve made it out alive. I’m living, yes, but feel completely dead inside. Numb, devoid of anything to give back to those around me. It feels like a limb was torn from my body when Danny slipped away. He was my soul-mate, my best friend.

  Due to the 6.3 magnitude quake, our city is reeling. The city centre has been red-zoned. Thousands of homes are without power and water. Aftershocks keep hammering us, sometimes hitting in the dead of night, paralysing me with fear to such a degree that I almost black out in sheer fright at the sickening sounds of rattling glass and rumbling earth. I am still staying in the apartment in a suburb of Cashmere that Danny and I shared. Our unit escaped structural damage, as did some other homes in the area.

  Many properties and structures in the western ‘burbs escaped the brunt of the quake, situated slightly farther away from the epicentre. Those living in central parts of the city weren’t so lucky. Whole houses were reduced to rubble and buildings of significance and historical value, have been damaged beyond repair.

  What the quake itself didn’t destroy, liquefaction has suffocated and seeped into, flooding houses, creating massive sinkholes, creating major health risks. So many people have died in this earthquake, hundreds still unaccounted for. As the daily death toll rises, hopes fade of finding more alive in the hell-hole that was just a few days ago, a proud and beautiful city. The hospital has been chaotic over the last few days. ER resembled a military hospital in Baghdad. Gravely injured people poured in, staff frantic. Devastated families held vigil, while aftershocks continued to further terrify, putting everyone on edge.

  Arriving back home yesterday after my hospital discharge almost destroyed me. Thankfully my best friend, Sarah, was at my side. So many things are reminiscent of Danny. As I entered our apartment, it all slammed into me at once. I could barely propel my feet forward through the front door.

  Knowing me so well, Sarah didn’t utter a word initially, just stood watching helplessly as I tore down every photograph I had of him, of us. Fresh pain lanced through my body with the exertion. The sight of a then happy and healthy Daniel had gutted me to the core.

  Sarah intervened when I started smashing keepsakes and reminders of Daniel that were too painful to look at. I held a small glass bird that he had brought back from a trip to London in a crushing grip, hands shaking, anguish and rage coursing through my veins. I was about to obliterate it into a million shards against the wall, when she finally spoke. Wrapping her arms around me from behind, wrenching the fragile ornament from my trembling hands, “Don’t, Katy. Stop,” she said haltingly, whispering into my hair. My body shaking, I had covered my face with my hands, while Sarah cried softly against my back, the shudders from her body rippling into mine. Sarah tried so very hard not to break down in front of me. We stayed that way for a while. Never had I been more thankful to have my best friend so close by. She literally, had my back.

  A few minutes later, she led me to the couch, where I sat clenching her hand in a death grip as tears choked my throat, making it hard to swallow.

  “Sarah, I don’t know how to go on without him,” I whispered, my body warring with itself. The physical wall of tears demanded release. My shutdown emotions denied them their escape.

  “He’ll always be with you, honey,” she whispered back softly. “I get that the photographs are too painful to look at now. Just don’t destroy things that in time, may be a comfort to you.”

  Looking down at our joined hands, I gave hers a gentle squeeze. “I’m so thankful to have you here with me today. I couldn’t have done this without you by my side. I love you, hon,” I said softly, looking into her pretty blue eyes. She swept me into a tight hug. I was emotionally spent. I lay down with my head in her lap while she gently stroked my hair, the soothing monotony of movement eventually coaxing my eyelids shut, until sleep overcame me.

  Chapter 4

  LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

  ~ Kate ~

  Danny and I met the first week of semester one at Canterbury University, in February 2006, where I was in my first year of studies for a bachelor of business degree.

  My family immigrated to New Zealand from South Africa a year prior, leaving behind our hometown of Durban. We had tearfully bid our farewells to family and lifelong friends, flying over 16,000 kilometres to a foreign country to start a new life together. It was brutal for a teenager.

  I knew my first year of Uni would be harsh: Making new friends, having to adapt to a new country, new cultures. These were changes I had anticipated. Meeting the love of my life hadn’t been one of them.

  Day four of week one, sitting in the cafeteria chatting with a few girls from my class, my eyes were drawn to a group of rowdy guys who’d just entered through the doors nearest the kitchen. They sat three tables down from us, talking loudly and gesturing to the shortest in their group with back slaps and a few curses. Real boys.

  My gaze drifted through them, stopping when the one sitting directly opposite me broke into a slow sexy grin. And he was staring straight at me. Oh, my. He was HOT. My heart flipped while I felt a blush hit my face, and quickly averted my eyes.

  Sarah, sitting next to me, following my line of sight, nudged me in the ribs. “Katy, do you know that dude? He’s not taken his eyes off you.” Sarah and I met on my first day of Uni. We hit it off immediately, opposites in so many ways, except for the colour of our hair. We were both blondes. Sarah had hers regularly tinted up to a very light beige blonde, which looks good against her olive skin tone and bright blue eyes. I’m more of a honey blonde with paler skin and green eyes. That’s where our similarities end.

  Sarah is voluptuous and
works her curves to her advantage, where I’m leaner, more athletically built and a good four inches shorter than her. In contrast to my reserved, reticent nature, Sarah is very extroverted and confident, drops more F-bombs than Gordon Ramsay, a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type girl. She is always trying to drag me out of my shell, yet I’m quite happy to stay in it, preferring my own company to that of others. Sarah is the sociable, outgoing one. Although complete opposites, we compliment one another in so many ways.

  This was mortifying. I was a student, and very shy to boot, the very last thing I wanted was to bring undue attention to myself my first week in Uni. “No, just look away Sarah, please,” I begged knowing I must have been blushing furiously.

  Fidgeting with my glass of Coke, I distractedly ran my finger over the rim. “Okay, doll, he’s looked away. You can breathe,” Sarah whispered, a stupid goofy grin plastered on her face. I chanced another upward glance. His face was turned to the side, talking to someone at his table.

  The girls animatedly chatted around me, but I was mesmerised by the beautiful boy with brown spiky hair, cute dimples, and a cleft in his chin. That mouth. I unrepentantly stared. Among the male voices drifting across from his table, his hit my ears, the timbre, a rich baritone. I was sitting down, but hearing his voice made my knees weak. What the hell was wrong with me? At that point, he looked across again, locking me in a heart-stopping stare. Just breathe I told myself.

  B-r-e-a-t-h-e.

  He dealt his hand when he delivered a dazzling smile aimed solely at me, topping it off with a wink, sending my internal temperature stratospheric. I thought I would spontaneously combust. We exited the cafeteria a little later, and I was still on cloud nine, my mind filled with that heart-stopping, panty-melting smile from the sexiest boy I’d ever laid eyes on.

  I froze in the doorway of the cafeteria the very next day, when I entered to find him sitting at the first table in my line of sight. My reaction to him just as profound as the day before.

  My breath caught, I felt the blush hit my cheeks, and my knees were unsteady. He looked up as I moved through the door, a wickedly sexy smile tilting the corners of his mouth and I swear it felt like I was caught up in one of those cheesy deodorant commercials where the woman catches a waft of the man’s scent and is magnetically drawn to him.

  It was a visceral attraction. He ticked all my boxes.

  A few minutes later, standing in the cafeteria queue with my plate piled high with fries, I heard a deep sexy chuckle from behind me. “I’ve been trying to hazard a guess, but estimate that plate must be loaded with at least a quarter of your weight in fries.”

  I felt colour rush to my cheeks. The grip on my tray tightened and my stomach flipped before I gained the necessary courage to face the sexy-voiced stranger with a pair of melty-brown eyes I had already become lost in. His full mouth was tipped up in a flirty smile and my eyes skittered across his too handsome features. His presence seemed to suck the air from the room and take with it my ability to breathe normally.

  “Are you implying that I need to lose some weight?” I retorted, stifling a nervous giggle and feigning irritation and offence instead. This time it was his turn to blush.

  “N-no, not at all. Your body is every guys fanta—”

  He cut himself off mid-sentence and took a deep breath, running a hand across the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. I wanted to burst out laughing at the sudden shift to him being bashful.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. That sounded so wrong. Let me start over. I’m Daniel,” he said, a small apologetic smile on his lips.

  “Katrina,” I offered in response. But my friends call me Kate.”

  “Kate, it is then,” he replied. His smile was soft, as was mine, as we held each other’s gaze.

  Dan’s “McDonalds” pick-up line, as I always jokingly referred to it thereafter, was the conversation that ultimately changed the course of my life. As from that day forward, Danny would always be a part of mine. We were inseparable.

  Five years down the road, we had still been going strong, living together, planning our future. Those plans, and all that would have come of them, crushed under the wreckage of the quake. Obliterated.

  It should have been me. Daniel should never have lost his life due to a decision I made. This is all on me.

  Chapter 5

  WILL MY HEART EVER BE WHOLE AGAIN?

  ~ Kate, 27 February 2011. 2:47 a.m. ~

  I wake up, it’s pitch black. My heart is pounding through my chest like a jackhammer. My eyes flash open and I sit up, gasping for breath, clutching my stomach in an attempt to stave off the nausea rising up my throat. Getting my bearings in the suffocating darkness, tears of relief hit the back of my eyes when I see the illumination of the digital clock on the DVD player. 2:47 a.m.

  It was only a dream. That deafening rumble had played out in my mind only. Too vivid. The screaming. The shaking. Daniel’s lifeless hand. Will I ever again be able to close my eyes without that awful image of his motionless hand flashing through my mind’s eye?

  I’m still on the couch. Sarah must have covered me with a blanket at some point during the night.

  ~ 10:00 a.m. ~

  Today is Danny’s funeral. I’m in knots. Sarah headed back to her apartment earlier, to get dressed for the service today and help with the flower arrangements. She’ll be meeting us at the church later.

  My head is pounding. I’ve suffered from blinding headaches since I was discharged from hospital. The doctors said to expect this due to the impact my head took against the wall. I take a deep calming breath and stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting back to my last night with Danny...

  “Babe, explain something to me. Why do you South African’s call traffic lights ‘robots’?” he asked, clearly trying prompt a reaction from me. “It’s not as if they work off automated electronic circuitry which only activates when a car approaches: ‘Bring this vehicle to an immediate stop,’” he mocked in his best Darth Vader voice. “So I don’t get it, babe, the use of the word ‘robot’ makes absolutely no sense to me.”

  I giggled.

  “I don’t know, Dan, guess it’s as inexplicable as why you Kiwi’s say, ‘Sweet as’, huh? Sweet as what, exactly?” I threw back at him, laughing as I made my way into the kitchen to check on the Thai green curry I was making for dinner. He followed me into the kitchen, continuing with his taunting, coming up behind me while I was stirring the sauce, and palming my backside.

  “Cut it out, Dan,” I squealed.

  “Well, I can tell you one thing, babe. This ass of yours sure is sweet as,” he murmured huskily into my ear, nibbling the lobe at the same time.

  “Danny, knock it off, I need to keep stirring, or there’ll be no dinner tonight.”

  “Mmm, that wouldn’t be such a tragedy, I’m thinking I may just throw you over my shoulder and have you for starters right now.”

  My uncle Dave’s voice snaps me out of my bittersweet reverie.

  “There’s someone downstairs to see you, love,” he says.

  “Who, Uncle D? I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

  My uncle shifts from one foot to another. At six foot two, he wears his age and height well. Slightly older than my mom, his hair is closely cropped and predominantly dark brown, with just a smattering of grey at the temples, eyes the colour of blue steel. He’s still a handsome man. I’d grown very close to Uncle Dave after my father died of a heart attack two years after we arrived in New Zealand. Aside from Mom, I had been fortunate to have Danny, Sarah, and Uncle Dave for support.

  Those steely eyes of his were levelled with mine now.

  “Honey, it’s one of the medics who treated you after the quake. He has something for you. I think you should come downstairs and see him.”

  My stomach churns and there’s an ache in the back of my throat, as I slowly make my way down the stairs. A pair of black shoes comes into view as I descend the second flight on unsteady legs. My eyes sweep over the medic uniform and a violent
flash of memories assault me. I look into the same pair of mossy-green eyes that were my only beacon of salvation just a few days ago.

  “Hi, Katrina. It’s, uh, good to see you on your feet again. I’m Matt, not sure if you’d remember me. I’m the medic who attended to you on Tuesday. I’ve got something that belonged to your boyfriend. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  He holds a folded brown envelope out to me, offering a tight smile that hasn’t reached his eyes.

  Getting my hands on that envelope is enough to propel my feet forward. Feeling Mom and Uncle Dave’s eyes on me, I have difficulty breathing as the envelope passes between us. I know what’s inside. Rubbing my trembling fingers over the indentations of Danny’s anniversary ring, my throat tightens as a pang of grief cuts through me. Unshed tears sear the back of my eyes. I embrace Matt awkwardly with my uninjured arm.

  “I do remember you, Matt...t-thank you so much, this m-means so much to me.”

  He gives me a gentle squeeze before pulling back.

  “Least I could do, Katrina. Our team is part of the recov— uh, rescue operation, and getting this to you was my priority.”

  Mom steps up to me, slipping her arm around my waist.

  “It’s his ring, Mom. Danny’s anniversary gift,” I say, clenching the envelope in a white-knuckle grip. She brings her hand up to her mouth, her chin quivering.

  “Oh, honey.”

  “Yes, thank you so much for stopping by to give this to our Kate. Can we offer you a cup of coffee, Matt?” Uncle Dave asks.

  “Thank you, but no. I must be heading back to base.”

  “Yes, of course. I can only imagine what you men are dealing with out there.”

  Still looking uncomfortable, Matt runs a hand over the spikes of his sandy brown hair.