Impulse (NaNoWriMo)

~2~

"Faith! Wake up! Come on honey we need to go, now," a faint voice urged me.

What was going on? Why was my mom in my room? She never came in my room...unless...

"What's going on?" I mumbled, my laptop fell to the ground and I tried to wake up but my eyes were not cooperating.

"Here's a sweatshirt, your father is already in the car waiting for us," my mom informed me but none of this was making any sense.

"Where are we going?" I questioned, shrugging the oversized Indiana sweatshirt on and slipping on some flip flops. I grabbed my phone and followed my mother blindly down to the car.

The clock in the living room read 1:03. What was going on? Why wouldn't she answer me?

"Mom! Where are we going?" I asked again. She was acting in control of everything but I could tell she was about to fall apart. I knew my mother and I knew when she was upset.

"The hospital. It's your sister."

That shut me up.

I got in the car and sat in silence as my dad drove faster than I had ever seen him drive before. I was still half asleep but I could feel that something was terribly wrong.

The bright lights of the hospital blinded me, but the tight grip my parents had on my arms kept me going in the right direction. We made it through the emergency room and were waved over by an extremely distraught Lizzie.

I hugged Lizzie awkwardly since I still wasn't sure what was happening. All I knew was the Grace was in the hospital, and Lizzie was more upset than I was at the moment.

"She...she's in su-surgery," Lizzie mumbled into my shoulder.

"Mr. and Mrs. Valenti?" My parents both turned instantly to the authoritative voice of a doctor. "Please come with me."

My parents grabbed me to come with them and I was beginning to feel extremely numb. Why was this happening?

We were led to a small conference room just down the hall. I sat in between my parents who each put an arm around me. My mom had a crumpled up tissue in her hand and my dad was wearing his this-is-serious-business face.

"Your daughter was hit head on by a drunk driver just before midnight. The accident was out in the country so it took a little while for the first responders to get to her. She was brought in with severe head trauma, but that wasn't our immediate concern."

The doctor's words sounded so calm, so in control. To her, my sister was just another patient brought in during the night shift. She wasn't the Valedictorian, she wasn't the girl who I grew up with, she wasn't the girl who I despised and loved so equally. She wasn't my sister, not to this doctor. To her, she was just patient number 312493.

"What's the matter then? Why is she in surgery?" my dad pressed, his eyes searching the doctor's.

I was still as a stone, bracing myself for whatever the doctor was about to explain. It wasn't going to be good, I could tell that for sure. It didn't help that a part of me felt like my parents wouldn't be this upset if it was me and not Grace.

"There was a piece of glass from the windshield that penetrated her right lung. It was on the verge of collapsing when she got here, and the blood loss was substantial as well."

I looked over at my mother who was shaking her head in denial. This couldn't be happening. I knew that's exactly what she was thinking. Not now. Not when everything had been going so good.

"The surgeon is attempting to repair the lung and remove any stray pieces of glass, but I'm afraid her chances of survival are below-"

"No. Don't tell us. She will survive," my dad interrupted the doctor.

"She is strong. She can make it," my mom agreed. Her high voice getting even higher with emotion.

"She's a fighter," I added, just so it felt like I was doing something productive, even if it didn't mean anything.

That wasn't a lie though. My sister was a fighter. When we were eight and our parents bought us each our own bicycles, we would ride all over town. One day an idiot boy thought it would be funny to slash my tires. She hunted him down and wasn't afraid to give him a piece of her mind.

That was the day I realized she would always look out for me, no matter if we were close or not. She was my twin sister and I would always have her by my side. At least that was what I had thought.

The doctor gave us a weak smile and nodded her head in acceptance. She said we could wait in that room if we wanted and she would be back with any news. My dad asked her to let us know when we could see Grace and she said of course and then left.

I hugged both of my parents and told them I needed some air. My mother didn't want me to go, but my dad convinced her I would be just outside if they needed me. I guess having one daughter in the hospital makes you super protective of the other.

When I walked back down the hall towards the doors I noticed a mass of mostly drunk teenagers gathering in the lobby. They were all of Grace's friends, all of the popular kids. Of course they were here for her, she was the Queen Bee and a stupid drunk driver has knocked her down off her throne.

My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. I had been trying to not feel anything, not to think about anything, but the doctor's words echoed in my mind. Her chances of survival are below... Below what? Why couldn't she tell me?

I was a numbers person. I liked numbers. I needed to see the chances my sister would make it. I needed to know.

I took a right and found a side door that led out to a little courtyard. I sat on a table and let my tears fall. Why did it have to be my sister? Why did she have to be the one to get in a car accident? Why couldn't it have been me?

If it had been me, nobody would be waiting in that lobby. My parents would be crying sure, but they wouldn't be losing their pride and joy.

Okay, so maybe my parents would care more than I am giving them credit before, but who else would? My few friends I have don't compare to the masses that follow Grace around.

If she does somehow manage to breathe on her own again what about her brain? The doctor mentioned brain damage, so would that make me smarter than her now? I couldn't deal with that, she can't be anything less than the perfectly poised and always engaged Grace. My sister Grace. She can't die. She can't leave me.

I sat out there for a lot longer than I intended. Every thought I had made me worry more and wish I could go back 24 hours. Just one day. Just so I could hug her a little tighter and smile a little bigger in those dumb pictures we took all afternoon.

The door opened and I looked up to see my dad walking slowly toward me. Just in the way he was walking I could tell what he was about to tell me was not what I wanted to hear. His steps were slow, almost as if he was in a daze, and his hands were fumbling around at his side like they wanted to do something but didn't know what.

"Daddy?" I called to him and when he got close enough I saw the tears in his eyes. "No daddy, please no!" I screamed. He reached me and pulled me into the tightest hug imaginable.

"It's going to be okay, Faith. We can get through this," his voice whispered in my ear, but I knew even he didn't believe his own words. "She wasn't in any pain. She's in heaven now, your sister is up in heaven now."

And I'm left alone here.

It should have been me. It should have been me. Grace didn't deserve this, but there was nothing I could do but cry into my dad's shoulder and wonder at how much everything would change.