The Girl With The Broken Smile (One Direction)

Chapter Four

2 WEEKS LATER.

I beamed excitedly at Louis. I was finally leaving the hospital. Louis laughed at my wide smile and patted my head. I rolled my eyes and swatted his hand away. 'You ready?' he asked me. 'As ready as I'll ever be,' I muttered. Louis pretended not to hear and grabbed the handles on the back of my wheelchair and started wheeling me down the absurdedly bright hospital corridor.

I had had my casts removed yesterday but my legs were still numb and unmoveable. That sucked. I was moving, relocating to a rehab center, in hope of regaining the ability to walk. The chances were slim. I let out a sigh and slumped into my wheelchair.

I had always been an outdoorsy girl. And being stuck in a wheelchair with legs I couldn't feel was driving me crazy. I wanted to run around, and feel the wind blowing on my face. Even walking seemed like a far-off dream.

I blinked back tears as I realised that I would probably stay in this wheelchair if rehab didn't help. And I was fucking terrified. I didn't want this. 

I found myself blaming the driver of the car. Why did he have to ruin my life like this? But then that stupid voice in my head caught me and whispered that it was my fault to. I bit my lip. I knew that deep down, it was no ones fault and the accident was bound to happen.

It was pouring, I was running and not watching where I was going and the roads were slippery. Just a death trap waiting to happen.

I let out a heavy breath, not even realising I was holding it in the first place. Louis looked down at me, eyebrows pulled up into a frown. 'No recceding into the dark depths of your strange mind while I'm here,' he told me jokingly. 'You're leaving hospital. So...WE NEED TO CELEBRATE!' I rolled my eyes. Typical Louis. Personality of a 5 year old.

Louis eyed me, grinning cheekily, giving me that look that said 'I know what you're thinking'. 'Yes Kyte,' he told me, 'I do have the personality of a 5 year old. But that just doubles my awesomeness!' He cheered and pushed my wheelchair up to the hospital reception area.

I rolled my eyes again. Personality of a 5 year old. I smiled at the lady behind the desk. 'Uhmm...I'm here to check out?' She nodded and clicked something on her computer. I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't actually doing her job, just surfing the net. 'Name?' she asked me.

'Kyte Dawson.'

She paused and bent down to rummage through a filing cabinet before finally pulling out a sheet of paper with my details on it. 'Check for any mistakes and if there are none, just sign on the bottom  and you can leave!' she told me. I took the sheet off her and scanned it.

Check. Check. Check. Everything was fine. I reached for a pen and signed my name in my messy writing at the bottom. I placed the sheet back onto the counter and happened to glance at her computer screen. I smirked. Right again.

She placed the sheet back into a drawer and smiled. 'Have a nice day!' Louis began pushing me away. But before we went out the door, I yelled 'Those handbags aren't very pretty. You might want to use another website!'

Louis pushed me into the parking lot and grinned. 'Trust you to notice those kind of things.' I shrugged and motioned for him to keeping pushing me. I would push myself but Louis was too stubborn and overprotective to let me. Besides, pushing the wheelchair killed my arms. You could get a serious workout just pushing yourself 20 metres.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. We reached the end of the parking lot and he stopped in front of his battered black Range Rover. We stayed there for a moment, in silence. He looked as if he was trying to solve a problem. 'What's wrong now?' I asked him.