Free
There I was, in the middle of an awkward situation where I promised myself I wouldn't cry. I lay on the street as I bled out innocent tears of blood through my open gashed hip, and many other places. I'd been hit by a small truck on Darcy Renton's street. It was August 17th. While Tessany McAdams and I were walking with Darcy off to the mall, we weren't paying any attention to the traffic, and I was walking much slower than them, so I was the one to get hit. I tumbled to the ground trying to breathe and comprehend what had just happened. I couldn't move. Tears were well on their way but I couldn't cry. I refused to. I couldn't cry in front of my two best friends, even though I'd known them for about two years, but I was known as the tough one. I never cry. But I'd never been in so much pain. I was fifteen years old, in grade 10, and my birthday was on January 1st. In all my years, I'd never felt so much pain and numbness all at the same time. I started to black out, and Tessany started freaking. Darcy gasped and called for help. A lady started to get out of the passenger seat of the truck, and then the driver opened his door. But Tessany was the last thing I saw, before waking up in the hospital, just her pretty brown eyes, brown hair perfectly tucked into a high bun, and a blue sky fading behind her.
