Why Wait?

28

~~~hospital~~~
I wake in a white room. My eyes adjust to the lighting and I let out an involuntary groan.

Immediately, someone was by my side. "Kelli!"

It's a girl. I can tell that much. But who the one yelling at me is, is a completely different story.

I shut my eyes again and try to surpass the burning headache. "What happened?" I mutter, my voice hoarse.

Then I noticed who it was. Sidney.

I let out a half growl-half groan before slowly inching myself away.

She sighs. "You're in a hospital, Kelli. I can't believe you're still mad at me."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

But before she could say anything, my brother walks in with a nurse. She checks my blood pressure and asks me a few questions before leaving me with my lovely brother and his girlfriend.

I refuse to look at them. I got in a car accident. Out of all the horrible things that could've happened, Cody had to pick a car accident.

Cody.

Is he okay? What if he's hurt? Or worse, dead. He's probably so hurt he won't be able to actually come and see me.

"--talk to you?"

I look up to see that my brother had asked me a question. "What?"

"We need to talk to you," Sidney repeats for him.

Then she starts crying. "I hate not being able to talk to my best friend, Kelli. I hate that your mad at me."

"We broke up," Austin says sadly. "We broke up because we want you to be happy."

"I'm not mad because you're dating," I snap.

Austin gives me an exasperated look. "Then what is it? Why does this brother you so much? Why do you just all of a sudden--"

"She's only hanging out with me because of you," I say over him, my head spinning and throat burning.

Just then, the doctor walks in. "It's not good for you to raise your voice, Miss Ross. Not while you're hurt."

Sidney leaves the room, leaving me with Austin and the doctor.

The doctor looks at his papers. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Kelli."

"Full name, please?"

I sigh. "Kelli Juliet Ross."

"When were you born?"

"September 16, 1998."

He nods. "Okay. Well, you have a concussion, seven broken ribs, you dislocated your knee - for the second time this month - and a broken ankle."

By the time he was done, I was on the verge of crying. There goes volleyball season.

For the next hour, the doctor suggests me going to physical therapy and regular therapy.

I managed to get out of the last therapy. I don't think I'm getting out of this one.

After the doctor leaves - telling I'll be discharged by the end of this week - Cody walks in, a cast around his arm.

He gives me a sad smile. "How are you doing?"

I watch as he walks towards me. "How'd you get out?"