The Unknown

“No!” I screamed as I watched my wife fall from my grasp and into the swiftly moving darkness below, the haunting screams and thunderous sound of the jet engines echoing the anguish I felt inside. Nothing made sense, not any more, not when the girl I loved was ripped from my hands in a matter of seconds. This was not how things should be. This was not how my life should be ending.

More panels of sheet metal splintered, pulling away from the frame of the still airborne jetliner, emphasising the ridiculous amount of damage we were yet enduring. It felt like we had been descending for hours, the plane succumbing to the elements as it continued to be torn apart piece by piece.

The mother and daughter sitting in front of me held each other as tightly as they could, their faces displaying how utterly terrified they both were before a deafening crack was heard amongst the carnage, their row of seats being torn from the aircraft and thrown into the night.

Everything was falling apart before my eyes and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help.

The noise was becoming too much, the rush of air and the flames from the intact cockpit were all collaborating to trigger unconsciousness which soon took its toll.



Waking up to shrieking and metal screeching, the smell of burning flesh and fuel hit me instantly. My eyes flickered open, pain radiating from temple to temple as I tried to focus on what was in front of me before scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What I found was a wreckage beyond words.

The plane was in multiple parts spread across a large field; panels, framework, seats, luggage and passengers strewn everywhere. Flames from the engines roared and danced, producing a bright orange glow in the midnight sky.

Unclasping my seatbelt, I clambered out of my chair and fell to the ground. People were all over the place, panic tangible in the air. Pulling myself up, I winced at the pain caused by the cuts and burns that covered my legs. There were more aches I could feel throughout my body but I had a more important, a more prominent, matter to worry about.

“Olivia! Olivia!” I cried out as I limped around the wreckage site, searching for any sign of my curvy, blonde wife.



It was the distinct sound which alerted me at first, so when I spun around on my heels, I came face to face with a little boy. He looked about the age of 4, and was wandering around the field clutching a teddy bear with tears falling from his beautiful emerald eyes and sobs tearing from his chest. An explosion from one of the jet engines startled him, causing him to fall to the ground and cry harder.

“Hey, little guy, you okay?” I asked when I rushed over to him, crouching down to be at his level. It was a stupid question but I didn’t know what else to say.

“I-I wa-want m-m-my mummy,” he howled, hugging the small teddy closer to his chest. The pain in the little boy’s voice cut right through me like a knife.

“I know, I know. We’ll find her, okay? What’s your name?” I replied, trying my best to be as soft as possible. He was devastated but looked unharmed, whether or not there was any internal bleeding was unknown, however.

“Ch-Charley.”

“Charley, my name’s Elliot. I want you to stay with me, alright? You need to trust me.”

The little boy nodded his head, curly brown locks falling over his eyes. Wrapping my arms around him, I lifted him up and rested him on my hip, feeling him tremble with fear. I asked him what his mother’s name was, thankful that he actually knew it, and began calling it out in a hope she would reply.



While I searched for Charley’s mother, my eyes were constantly on the look out for my sweet Olivia. Part of me wanted to be selfish, to put all my effort into finding my partner, but I couldn’t give in, especially when it came to this helpless little boy who wasn’t big enough to fend for himself.

There were many passengers wandering around confused and scared, just like myself. Some were bent over injured relations, some sitting beside dead family members, and others were calling out for their missing party. It was a tragic sight, one that was being burned into the surface of my brain, one that would be stuck there for years to come.

Sirens became louder and blue lights could be seen flashing furiously in the unknown distance, bringing a sense of relief with them. The closer they got, the more light shone onto the field and displayed the full massacre that prevailed, bringing a new heartache to me.

“Charley!” a woman screamed, causing the boy in my arms to scramble out of them and run to his mother. She scooped him up and hugged him as tightly as possible, tears streaming down her face and sobs radiating from her. After a few moments, she strode over to me and thanked me as many times as she could, repeating the words ‘thank you’ over and over again.



The police were everywhere, as were the paramedics. The fire brigade were tackling the jet engines and rescuing the passengers who were trapped. I tried to help the best I could, but when I heard the familiar sound of Olivia’s voice I followed it, finding her stuck under a pile of debris and two paramedics surrounding her.

“Olivia, darling! Baby, you’re going to be okay, you’ll be fine, yo-”

“Wh-who are you? How do you know my name?! Don’t come near me, just get away! What’s going on, where am I? What happened?!”

Her questions and exclamations stopped me in my tracks, stabbing me in the heart and making me crumble. She doesn’t know who I am.

"Olivia," I sighed, hurt and defeated.

“Eh, sir, do you, uh, know this-a woman?” a paramedic asked me in a thick Italian accent.
“Yes, she’s my wife! What’s wrong with her? Why doesn't she remember me?”

The two medical employees spoke to each other in their foreign language, checking Olivia over before replying to me.

“She hurt her head. She, uh, she have little brain-a damage.”

“What?! No, no, no. This can’t be happening. What does this mean? Will she be alright, will she remember who I am?!” Questions ran through my head while fear coursed through my veins. The way she was glaring at me, confused and scared, was nothing like how she looked at me before.

Firemen ran over to us and, with the aid of the paramedics, managed to lift the metal off of her without causing more damage. They fastened a neck brace onto her before moving her onto a gurney.

“We-a need to, uh, get her to hospital now. Load her up and go.”

I wanted to climb into the truck with them but Olivia screamed at me not to, so I was left in the field waiting for another ride to the hospital. Watching the ambulance drive off, sirens blaring, I felt the sickness wash over me. Bending over with my hands on my knees, I threw up again and again.



Watching the sun rise over Rome was something I wanted to do with my wife, not alone. I wanted to be in bed with Olivia, looking over the Pantheon and basking in the Italian heat. I wanted to have a honeymoon full of passion, relaxation, and happiness. I wanted to have a bright future with the woman I love.

But right now, that didn’t seem plausible. Olivia, my sweet Olivia, was lying in a gurney, unconscious. She didn’t know who I was when I found her, and she may not know who I am when she wakes.

Doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel entered and exited the waiting area, informing the other people about how their loved ones were doing. Some were the bearers of bad news, while others were the voice of good. And each time a member of staff walked in, my head shot up, my face a picture of pure desperation.

As the hours ticked by, my hope dwindled. I wasn’t sure if the surgery was still going on or if the damage was so extensive they had to induce a coma, or…or if she just didn’t make it.

It wasn‘t until someone tapped me on the shoulder, a soft Italian accent saying ‘excuse me, sir,’ did I look up and find a doctor standing in front of me. I wiped my silent tears away and blinked, terrified to hear the outcome.

“Mr. Roberts, your wife is asking for you.”