A Firework Did This

Kristie Young loved taking part in the celebrations, until the night that changed her life forever

- Saskia Murphy And Lucy Bryant

Stopping at the firework shop, I looked at all the boxes packed with Catherine wheels, sparklers and rockets. It was 2015, and I was on my way to my friend’s house, where she’d arranged a small gathering. Having always adored fireworks and seeing the bright, colourful explosions lighting up the sky, I couldn’t wait to get there. So, I bought a box full of fountain fireworks and took them with me to the party. Looking back, there aren’t enough words to describe just how much I regret that decision now...

As a child, I remember my dad taking me and my three sisters to firework displays. I couldn’t wait for it to get dark so I could watch the explosion of colours and point out my favourite firework. I loved being outdoors with the smell of bonfires, and as the years passed, nothing changed.

In 2000, when I was 20, I got a job as a supervisor at a local auto-parts factory, and spent my days off kayaking, camping or at music festivals with friends.

Eventually I moved out into an apartment with my flatmate, 25 miles from my family home in Edmonton, Kentucky. I still made sure I saw them as often as I could. Every year, I looked forward to Independence Day, when my family and friends got together.

So on 4 July 2015, when an old friend invited me to a party he was hosting, I jumped at the chance. ‘Fireworks?’ I asked with a grin, knowing full well that there would be a brilliant display.

‘Of course,’ he winked. The weather was warm and, after splashing about in the pool, I tucked into the barbecue, eagerly anticipating the firework display later. As it started to get dark and the bonfire was lit, everyone huddled around waiting for the fireworks. But the last thing I remember is standing among my friends – everything after that is black.

Weeks in a coma