"When writing the story of your life, don't let anyone else hold the pen."-Anonymous
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T H E N
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Machines were all around me. I wake up feeling hazy with sleep, and sore all over. Not a good combination. I see white. White walls, white furniture, white bed sheets.
"Where, where am I?"
My voice didn't sound familiar. It sounded hoarse and cracked. It sounded defeated. Immediately someone comes and I try not to look at them.
"Shh. You're okay, sweetie."
Just hearing her voice made my heart hurt.
"Mom...I'm so sorry. I should've told you sooner." I cried. Suddenly I couldn't hold back my tears.
She gathered me in her arms.
"I just wished you told us about this earlier. Sweetie, you know you can tell us anything. Right?"
I nodded. "I-I just didn't kn-know how to tell y-you." I said in between sobs.
"Oh, my poor baby."
"Wh-what's going to happen?" I asked.
"You will have to see a therapist." she said, slowly.
"For how long?"
"I don't know, honey. But over time, this will be forgotten. Time heals wounds. I have to go, but I will see you tomorrow bright and early, yeah?"
"Okay." I replied.
She kissed my forehead and walked out. Slumping back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. What was my life going to be like? I thought in despair.
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"There's a visitor for you miss." a nurse said, standing over me.
"Who?" I inquired.
"Kyle."
"I don't know a Kyle." I said, confused.
"Kyle Thames. The boy who saved your life."
