Love is Written

Superhero

He's an amazing person.

He's always kind to people. He makes them laugh. He defends the weak, who can't defend themselves.

He's one of the most amazing people you'll ever meet.

And I'm invisible to him.

That's ok, though. Admire from a distance, right?

Well, that's what I've been telling myself ever since That Day.

One year, four months and two days ago, I nearly died. I would've died, had it not been for him.

See, I was in a wreck with a drunk driver. I was driving my friend's car, since she was a little over the limit. Her boyfriend, Joel, was in the passenger seat, sleeping. His mate was also out cold in the back of the car, and between them was the friend's girlfriend, a person I'd never met. Her name was Melanie.

It all happened so fast. There was this bright light, and I remember thinking, Idiot, put your lights down!

Then there were screeching tires. A crunch, and then . . .

Nothing.

Well, until the screams faded into reality.

It was my friend. She was screaming at God, screaming for answers, begging him to bring him back, begging for him to be ok.

Him.

Not me.

I couldn't see anything except a black bar, warm and sticky and soft - the steering wheel, I knew almost instinctively. But I thought to myself, Why was it sticky? Why are my ears ringing? and what's the ache in my neck all about?

I heard the sound of hard braking, the purr of a powerful engine.

And then I remembered.

The pain came crashing through the gates of haze, and it was so much that I couldn't even groan in agony. The breath left me, seeping out like a leaking bike tire.

My friend didn't notice the pain I was in.

But he did.

Out of the corner of my tear-blurred vision, I saw the sleek iron grey car pull up. He climbed gracefully out of the car, ran over, pulled out his phone and, as he knelt beside the twisted remains of the car door, proceeded to call someone.

I couldn't make out what he was saying, but then I saw him dragging Melanie out of the car. He laid her down on the side of the road, in the recovery position, and then he was back at my side. More indecipherable words, a gentle smile, worried eyes.

He lifted me out, his movements careful and precise. I yelped in pain when my arm moved suddenly, but he didn't flinch, only adjusted his grip and set about checking my injuries.

I was taken to hospital, and discharged nine days later, so bruised and bandaged that I was confined to a wheelchair, and deemed unfit for school.

Joel died at the scene, according to the paramedics who came to our aid that night.

My friend moved state, I haven't seen her since.

Melanie's boyfriend walked away without a scratch. He's since broken up with her and moved away.

Melanie suffered from severe brain damage, and is now a paraplegic. But she survived, and so did I.

When they did let me back, my leg was still in a cast, and so was my arm, but I let the people believe the rumour of a serious riding accident. The scar from my head smashing into the wheel is hidden under my hair, just above my temple. No one sees it.

He never knew the girl he saved that night sat behind him in Science and Standard English.

He'll never know how grateful I am, or how much I love him.

But that's alright by me.