When I woke up, I was surprised to find myself in a hospital room, a tube attached to my arm.  I didn't know what had happened at first, but a stern-looking female doctor with short, straight black hair told me in a clipped, accented voice that I was going to be okay, that I'd been injured.

I tried to sit up, found out I couldn't.  My head was killing me; it felt as large as a basketball.  I asked for my family; the doctor said that they had been killed by the tornado.

I started screaming as the world spun dizzily in front of me.  I then felt a sharp prick in the crook of my arm, and the scene faded once again as I sank into welcoming darkness.

When I woke up later, I felt as though I were in a fog.  I didn't want to believe that my family had perished in that tornado of only the day before; yet that was exactly what had happened.  My mom, my dad, my little brothers:  all snuffed out by the strong winds that proved to be too much for them, even though they'd taken shelter in what was once thought to be a safe place.

I don't remember much after that:  the funeral, the relatives clucking their sympathies over me, the friends trying to be nice to me, knowing that something bad had happened to me.  It was all a blurry montage; guess I didn't want to remember such pain, so I purposely blocked it out of my subconscious.

Now I am faced with nightmares nearly every night:  it's like I'm reliving the horrors of that night all over again, and I have lost weight, as I am nauseated; the very thought of food makes me ill.  I can't concentrate on my schoolwork:  I am way behind, in danger of failing all my classes, and don't think I will be passing to the next grade because my grades are so terrible. 

I see a child psychiatrist every week, to help me deal with my PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), and I'm on medication to help with depression.  It's helping some, but not much, no, not really.  I still have the nightmares, and I can't go past my former street, for all the memories that come flooding back. 

I live with my aunt Rosa and her husband, Charlie; it's like I'm their son now, even though I'm only their nephew.  They are raising me.  I like it okay, but they aren't my parents, and my cousins aren't my brothers, and I end up missing my family all over again.  It's really a pain.

I don't know if I am ever going to get over the memories of February 5, 2008.  Every time it comes up a cloud, every time there's even a remote mention of severe weather, I turn chicken, and I relive the tornado nightmare.  It's something I wish I could forget, but am afraid I won't.  It's done too much damage to my psyche, and it's changed my life as I once knew it forever.

~End of part two.~