Hating Grayson ✓

54 (Grayson)

Home sweet home. I think to myself as my mother wheels me inside.

The nurse said I may be able to walk one day, but for now, I was stuck using a wheel chair and a walking frame to get around, which kinda sucks, but beats being stuck in that stuffy hospital room listening to monitors all around the clock.

It's been just over a week since I had woken from my coma, and a week since I had last seen Dallas. Mitchell too.

I would have texted them, but I lost my phone when I had a run in with somebody's windshield.

I still cannot believe that I got hit by a car! An actual moving car!

That is officially going to be my origin story starting from now on. I mean, how many people get hit by a car and live to tell the tale? Okay, I'm sure it's not as rare as I am making it out to be, but from my point of view, I have never met anybody who can say that they have been through what I have.

"I ordered in an adjustable bed and put it in the living room for you, since you can't walk up and down the stairs." My mom says.

"You put it in the living room? Or did Dale?" I wondered.

"Dale and I are over, fyi." She says. "And you are right, I didn't put it in. They have people for that, you know."

"What happened with Dale?" I asked.

"He was a cunt." She cursed, wheeling me into the living room, or should I say, my new 'living' room.

"They're all cunts." I tell her. "But especially Dale."

She laughed at that.

"Would you like anything for dinner? Something special to celebrate you coming home?" She asks.

"Hmmm, maybe we could have dinner with the Coopers?" I suggested.

"Uh, sure I can call and see if they wouldn't mind." She says. "But in the meantime, you need to rest."

She put the hand brakes on and walked back out to the car to get the walking frame for me.

When she comes back in, she places the walking frame in front of me and starts to help me out of the wheel chair. My right foot is currently my dominant one, as the left one still isn't fully recovered yet. I make my way over to my new bed and sit down on it before falling slowly onto my back, which still hurt a tad.

"Uh, I have to head to work, but I'll call someone to come look after you." She says.

Of course she has to go back to work.

"I don't need anyone. I think I'll be fine." I say.

"No, you can't be left alone." She insists.

"Mom, I can take care of myself." I tell her.

"I'll at least ask one of your friends over." She says. "What about that Jonah guy?"

Jonah wasn't my friend. The only friend I had left was Mitchell. No one else from school has even bothered to come and visit me, except for Aisha, whose visit wasn't pleasant. But there were many cards and gifts from a lot of my classmates. When I say 'a lot', I'm talking almost a hundred different people.

Looks like I'm popular.

None of which were from any of my so-called friends.

"Fuck Jonah." I spat.

My mother groaned frustratedly. "Fine, what about Diego?"

"Fuck him too." I say.

"Brock?"