I thought of this story about....a year ago? Yea. I don't have alot of time on me now, so I will put a little, "To be continued..." thing. Please don't get mad because I cut off. For comments; I want NO fighting. Please comment on the story only. Thanks! Enjoy!
Chapter 1
I opened my eyes for the first time since the accident�to a blinding light. Blurry figures of doctors swam in front of me. A woman flashed the light in my eyes agian.
"James? Are you there James?"
Groggily, I forced myself up into a sitting position. The thin paper underneath me crinkled.
"Mom?" I asked.
The pretty nurse who had called my name looked somber and depressed at my question.
"James, honey," She always called my honey. But from the stupid hospital soap operas, I learned that when someone you don't know calls you honey- it never means that the sun is shining.
"Honey, your parents have p*censored*ed on. I'm terribly sorry."
Then it all flooded back.
The screaming.
The sickening crash.
The blackness.
Both my parents were killed when the bus hit us on the parkway.
"Why am I alive?" I asked, my voice trembling.
The nurse shook her head. I lifted my hand to feel the deep gash on my forehead. Now, it was all stitched up. I counted. 52 stitches. Crap. A pang of sorrow filled me like a balloon with air.�I racked my brain to figure out why I couldn't have died. The projection of the spinning bus should have smushed me-not my loving, sweet parents. I grew angry, the�fury of the emotion bubbling up inside me. I had to do something.�What? I had no idea.�
Without a plan, without thinking this all through like a sensible child, my stupid 13 year old self leaped up from the table/bed of torture.
"James! Get back here!" screamed the 20 year old blonde nurse as I sprinted from the room.