Long checkered shirts

After One. Before Two.

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You know when you're in a swimming pool, and you're under the water, you don't really pay attention to what you feel, do you?

Like, when you open your eyes under the water, and your vision is blurry but you can still see the light beams through the transparent blue water, full of chlorine, and they start to ache after a while.

The water resistance against your body, as you try not to drown, or go too deep so that you won't have time to get out, to catch your breath.

Or when you go really low and your eyes start to hurt, and your head starts to ache from the pressure.

When your lungs are about to give out, but you come out just in time so that you don't fall unconscious and your lungs don't fill up with the pool water, that was full of chemicals.

But you keep trying, don't you?

You keep trying to go lower, to go deeper.

You keep trying to stay down there longer.

Because of the thrill and the determination you had to fight through it, and get your goal.

That's how I felt in this moment.

I also, didn't know what was to come.
The next stepping stone, the next thing in my life.

Something slightly better than one, but worse than three.

*beep*
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My eye sight is blurry and all I see is white.

I better not be in fucking heaven.

There's a couple of muffled voices.
There are also a couple of sobs, mainly from children.

I blink, heavily, and my eyelids ache.
Where the hell am I?

I hear a familiar baby giggle.

Paul. I think, as I smile, raising my hand to try to find where he is.
I feel his hand wrap around my finger.
He squeezes it, and makes another baby sound, of joy, that makes me smile even more.

I then get a jolt of pain shooting through my whole body.

"Ahh!" I cry.

"Can we get a doctor over here please?!"

Masie.

I start breathing heavily as I feel a panic attack rising, and my lungs desperate to fill with more oxygen.

"Why... Are... You... H-Here?" I breath out, in agony.

"Shh, don't say much. The doctors called mum and Paul was crying a lot. Mum didn't want to bring him, but he wouldn't stop, and kept reaching out for your typewriter. It was obvious he wanted to see you, like he knew you were in danger."

"Step back please. The morphine has ran out, we need more." The doctor says.

"W-What's happening? Where am I?"
I start to panic even more now.

"You need to calm down, love" a female nurse says to me.

"I CAN'T FUCKING CALM DOWN UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING..."

And just like that I was out again.

*beep*
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I wake up again, still not being able to see properly. Still not knowing where I was or what the hell was going one.

I sighed heavily as I see a figure wearing a blue outfit.

"Can you please tell me what's going on now? In so confused!" I say, trying not to start crying.

"It's a long story, but please try not to shout or swear anymore, you're in the kids department, they are as young as five year olds in here,"

"Do you have time? I-I mean to tell.." I breath as now I get shortness of breath, apparently.
"To tell me the story?"

"You were outside, walking across the road, it was raining and," she pauses.

I turn to face her, even though I still cannot see her.

She sighs, "it wasn't either of your faults. Neither of you could help it,"

"Help what?"

"His tiers, they wasn't good enough for a slippery, wet road, and then he-"

I gasp, loudly as I get a flash back of what had happened, all the thoughts come rushing back, and I try to sit up but something is restricting me.

"Are you okay?"
"Is he?"
"Who?"
"The man?! In the car?! I know it wasn't his fault and I know he could not have helped it and I know he midst feel extremely guilty, and I don't want him too. I want to see him to tell him that everything is okay. Please."

There was a strong silence, and I could feel her guilty ora.

"Mr. Watkins, died." She says softly.
"In the accident?" I ask.
"No," she says "he survived that,"
So how did he- When did he..?"

She looks down at his feet.

"Did he kill his self? Did he kill his self... Because of me?"
"No, no! That - not in that way,"
"In what way?!" I say, sharply.
"He killed his self, yes. But only because he thought you were dead, he thought he had killed you. He was mentally ill anyway," she protests,

"So?" I ask.
"He wanted to apologise, but you were 'dead' so he, uh- he, em.."
"Did he think that we would meet in the after life or something? So that, that was where he could apologies?"

"Yeah, he thought that was the only way to fix things."

I look down at my bed sheets.

"That poor man," I croak.
"He didn't deserve this,"

"And neither do you, okay?" She says, like trying to make sure I don't kill myself, and she puts a hand in my shoulder.

I shrug it off, because this isn't about me, it's about him, and I didn't need comfort, I needed to know more about him.

"What's your name?" I ask the nurse.
She stands there for a while, like the question came out as a surprise for her.

She hesitates, but then says; "Stacy,"

I smile, and hope she smiled back,
"Your new here, aren't you?"
"How do you know?" She asks, surprised at this knowledge that wasn't hard to know.

"You have me all this information, and not once did you ask if I had anything wrong with my head. I know your meant to,"

I knew this because as we were talking, I over heard another nurse talking to another patient in the ward about their symptoms.

"Oh, right.."

Silence. Does she not know what to do? I decide to help her.

"My visions blurry, by the way. I can't actually see your face."

"Oh, oh right, em, I will go fetch doctor Martin." She smiles and puts both hands up to show that she is apologising, and quickly scurries away.

I lay back down and close my eyes, but every time I do, I see that black car, flying at me.

My arm still hurts, and it's because I have a drug going through a pipe into my arm.

My torso is all bruised. Purple and blue and green.

My right leg in a mummifying cast, and my left foot covered in flesh coulored plasters.

My shins with scratches on them, and my things... Nothing changed their.
Still just scars, I hope they just assume that was from the accident.

My back is sore, and I hope that it was a bed sore, and not my spine, but I can feel my spine is every where and I know I can't do anything about it.

So I decide to look at the white ceiling, with all the blurry farm animals dangling from string, until I fall to sleep.