Pieces of My Heart

Chapter 22

(Merry Christmas!!! We're getting close to the end of the year and the end of the story 💛 thanks for coming along for it!)

I don't know how long I'm out, but it can't it be that long. When I wake up, Sam is next to me, his phone in one hand, is other hand resting gently on my shoulder.

This is it. This is where I die? "I guess you were right, Sam," I whisper. My body hurts everywhere, and I just want to cry. "I guess I wasn't supposed to kill myself." I try to laugh, but I don't know if I ever made it that far. Once again tears were streaming down my face. "God, please, I don't want to die. Not now." Maybe this is my punishment for wanting to die before. "Please, God, not now." I just figured out how to be happy.

"Sh, Rindy, you'll be okay. The ambulance will be here soon." Sam brushes his fingers through the end of my hair. "You'll be okay." His eyes are red too. His voice lowers and his eyes close as he whispers something—probably a prayer. He never stops running his fingers through my hair.

The ambulance gets here, eventually, along with a cop car and a fire and rescue truck. An EMT comes over to me and starts talking. I assume he tells me things like, "You're going to be okay" and "You're doing just fine", but I'm not paying attention.

Somehow they put me on a gurney and into the ambulance, but I'm not sure how it happened, it's just a blur. We're at the hospital eventually—or did it go fast? There are nurses and doctors who poke me with things and ask questions. Everything blurs together and I don't remember much

Most of the time being alone doesn't scare me. Usually it's what I want. Not always, though. Not now. Even though I'm surrounded by doctors and nurses, I don't have anyone I'm familiar with. The only thing to do is reach out to God.

Sometime after that I'm put into a room where Dad, Margie, and Sam are waiting for me.

A man wearing a white jacket and carrying a clipboard came into the room. "Hello, I'm Dr. Winchester." He shakes hands with them. "Well, Florinda is doing a lot better then it could've been."

"We were so worried about you." Margie gives me a hug as best she can with the wheelchair and with my right arm and leg in a cast.

Dr. Winchester looks at some of the papers on the click board. "Florinda has suffered some cracked ribs, a slight concussion, and a broken leg and an arm—not counting some scrapes and bruises and the road rash she got. I know it sounds bad, but it could've been a lot worse." He goes on to explain the medicine I'm on, when I can go home, what I am allowed to do and not allowed to do, and some other things but I tune him out and start to doze in my wheelchair. Whatever medicine they gave me here, I hope they give me more to take home. Someone grasps my left hand and through my sleepy eyes it looks like Sam, but I can't be sure.

"We're going to give Florinda a bed here for tonight, just to make sure she's okay. If nothing gives us concern tonight—and I'm sure it won't—she'll be free to leave tomorrow." He flips through the papers he's holding and glances at Dad and Margie. "Any questions?"

Margie peppers him with questions as Dad gently pats her shoulder. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. You terrified me, Rindy," Sam smiles, though he still looks concerned.

"What about the driver?"

He grimaces and looks to the floor. "Fell asleep driving. Hit his head on the steering wheel... he died."

I get hit by a car and survive, when the driver dies with one bang to the head? What makes some people live and others die? Why did God choose to let me live?

"I guess you were right again, Sam. I wasn't supposed to die yet."

"You need to change your attitude about how you might always die. I think you're pretty

tough," He squeezes my hand and then stuffs his hands in his pants pockets.