This story is set up between the present and flashbacks just to be clear.
When I wake up, there is a thin layer of snow covering my back garden.
In any other place that would just mean that it is the beginning of winter.
Not in Corona. In Corona, a thin layer of snow is the beginning of a blizzard.
I hop out of bed and change into my normal clothes, faded jeans, a white top and a purple cardigan.
As I walk down the stairs, the smell of strong coffee hits me, so I know the rest of my family is already up.
"Hey sweetie! Wanna cup-o-coffee?" my mum beams as I enter the kitchen.
"Sure, yes please." I answer flatly.
"Mums making pancakes for breakfast!" Pascal, my eight year old brother, squeals in delight.
"With chocolate chips!" mum adds from behind as I take a seat opposite Pascal at our small table.
"Morning everyone!" dad walks in and plops the morning newspaper in front of me.
He kisses mum on the cheek before turning on the radio.
"Attention everyone! To all you kids out there, you'll be happy to know, that... It's a snow day! All schools across Corona have been shut for today!"
Pascal stands up, eyes wide as he stares at the radio.
"WOO HOO!" he screams and runs out of his seat.
"Schools out for summer!" as he starts singing, dad catches him in his arms.
"Oh no, you did not just sing Alice Cooper! Sing the Ramones!" dad insists.
"Schools out forever!" Pascal ignores his plea.
"Have we no standards?" he lets go of Pascal and rubs his forehead dramatically.
My dad used to be in a band, but when Pascal came along, he realized he had to start acting like an adult. He got rid of his bike leathers and tacky clothing and traded it for smart, casual clothing, whilst getting a job at my rival high school.
I assume that if the school is shut, dad is off the hook too.
So that leaves mum, who works at Tesco.
"Well if you guys are having the day off, so am I!" mum declares.
"And how are you gonna do that?" dad asks sarcastically.
"Well I can't go in if i'm sick can I?" she begins to cough and have a dry throat.
When she's done, she serves the slightly burnt pancakes to us.
"Pascal's going to be bouncing of the walls!" I tease as mum serves him a cup of coffee.
"Don't worry, we switched him to decaf." mum calls back.
My eyes widen.
"As long as your not switching me to decaf!"
"No hunny that would be child abuse." my dad jokes.
"There's a great picture of your young man in there!" mum walks back up to me.
"Yeah, it's probably the most we've seen of him in the last few weeks." dad tries to sound innocent.
There on to me, I can see from the corner of my eye that they are exchanging glances.
The picture is of my boyfriend, Flynn.
He's in a band called Shooting Star, which is earning him lots of fame and publicity, which is good, but also bad.
I play the cello, and have also auditioned for Julliard. It went ok, I guess. Which is why I spend most of my time indoors, wondering if the letter will ever arrive.
"So what are we going to do today?" my mums voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"We could go visit Henry, Willow and the baby?" she continues.
"Or go visit my parents?" dad suggests.
I stand up, taking my cup of coffee with me.
"I don't know, there's this really tricky part of the Beethoven Sonata that I have to work on." I walk out the kitchen and to the hallway, staring at the letterbox before continuing "and well, the letters were sent on friday."
Mum and dad walk up behind me.
"Okay, I can't watch this. Look who knows what time the mail is even going to arrive today? Come on you have to come with us!" dad elbows me in the back.
"Whether you get in or not, you're going to college anyway, how many snow days are we going to have together?" mum adds.
"Are you guys trying to guilt trip me right now?" I ask.
"We'll let you pick the music?"
"And bribery!" I exclaim.
"Kid, guilt and bribery is the glue that has held parents and children together for years, please don't fight tradition." dad remarks sarcastically.
"Fine." I give in.
When everyone is in the car, the fight begins over who controls the radio.
"I want SpongeBob!" Pascal protests.
"I've got my Ipod for you son!" Dad passes back his Ipod to Pascal.
"We'll listen to a couple of rock songs before turning over to the... classical station." mum stutters dramatically.
After listening to a couple of Ramones and Beatles songs, dad switches to the classical station.
And what do you know, the very piece I am meant to practice is playing.
I stare out of the window as Beethoven plays on.
Isn't it amazing how life is one thing, and then, in an instant it becomes something else?
Like here I am, Rapunzel, the girl who thinks about the cello and Flynn and whether a letter is going to come through the door.
And just like that.
I have no idea what hit us, but whatever it was, it was heavy and extremely strong.
It rips the engine apart, tears off the doors and flips the car across the road.
I first started playing the cello when I was ten.
Our school had a new stock of instruments, most kids went for the recorders and saxophones, not me.
With a punk rock family like mine, you'd have expected me to pick up a guitar, but I caught sight of the old, untouched cello in the corner and started to play with it.
My parents were utterly shocked when they saw me plucking my fingers across it, my dad teased that I might have been switched at birth, I knew he meant it as a joke, but sometimes I worry it might be true.
For starters, I look nothing like my family, they all have brown hair, whereas I have blonde.
But when I came to think about it,only me and mum have the same coloured eyes, green. Pascal has brown, and dad has blue, though we suspect he inherited it from dads mum.
Other then that, i'm like the odd one out.
At first I rented a cello from my teacher, Professor Rachel. But after my first recital, and when my parents realized this hobby wasn't going away, they bought me a cello of my very own when I was twelve.
I still have it till this day, and still use it literally every day.
Am I dead?
I have to be dead, the car was shredded apart, no one can survive that.
So how come i'm breathing?
It takes me a couple of seconds to manage to get my eyes open.
I'm on my back, that I know.
I move my fingers around, before scrambling to my feet.
I'm still in the woods, standing on the snow covered pathway.
As I look down, I notice i'm barefoot and that my clothes still look brand new, shouldn't they be covered in blood.
I take in my surroundings, an ambulance is here.
Someone is looking after the person who I assume is the driver of the lorry we crashed into.
"Excuse me, what's going on?" I ask a fire fighter who runs straight past me.
I follow him behind the ambulance.
Our car is upside down, totally wrecked and on fire. There is a group of three fireman trying to put it out.
Where's my family?
I run past the car, to discover a medic putting someone into a black body bag.
My heart stops, who is in there? Tell me it's not one of my family.
"Mum? Pascal? Dad?" my voice breaks as I look round.
"Can you help me?" I ask a paramedic, who like the fire fighter, ignores me.
"Will someone please help me!" I scream.
I continue to roam round, and that's when I notice it.
There is a group of four paramedics hovering around one body.
As I peep over their shoulders, I realize, it's me.
My hair looks brown from what I presume is blood, my clothes have been stained and there are deep gashes on my legs from where my trousers ripped open.
I turn my back to the sight.
"No. Wake up! WAKE UP!" I try pulling on my hair, pinching the back of my hand, but nothing works.
Why am I like this? How do I get out of this state?
A paramedics voice breaks my thoughts.
"We have an eighteen year old with a heartbeat! Get her over to the hospital now!" a woman's voice screams.
"What about the others?" a man asks her.
"We'll treat the father here, then get him over, the young boy will be right behind you!" another interrupts.
"Quick! It looks like she's in a coma!" the woman yells.
"Coma? What do you mean coma?" I run after them as they lift my body onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.
"Just hang in there baby!" I get a good look at the now, she has raven black hair and bluish-grey eyes.
"Gothel, you go with her, i'll go with the boy!" I hear someone call to her.
As she climbs into the ambulance, so do I.
All I can do is watch as i'm driven away from the scene.