Where's My Love Story?

A Ride Home

I couldn't believe it. I thought it was a freaking gunman. Do you know how fucking stupid I felt? He pretty much saw me flying through the air and taking out the light. He stood there in amazement at what he saw. He came to a school shooting not expecting that. I mean, it's horrible. What happened to those kids, they did nothing to him.

The gunman's name was Angel Marcos. He was a Junior with straight A's. No referrals, no suspensions, no fights or altercations with anybody. He was in multiple clubs, a few which I was in with him! He was a nice guy. He was hard working and almost always stayed afterschool to help anyone.

Maybe all the expectations of his parents finally got him. His parents wanted him to go to any Ivy League school, but Angel wanted to do something more. He wanted to live on his own, away from school and expectations. He just wanted a life that he could live.

"Are you sure you're ride's coming sir?"

A nurse asked me as I sat there in the lobby, waiting to leave.

"Yes I am. Thanks for asking. She should be here soon. I mean, it is almost midnight."

"Ok, I just wanted to make sure."

She walked away to fill things out on a clipboard.

I wonder where my ride is. I called Scarlett if you must know. I can hear the gears in your head turning, trying to figure out who 'she' is. I had no one else to call and her number was the first one that came up when I was asked to give a friend or family to call. She's a friend so I gave then her number.

I felt an itching sensation on my lower back. Don't itch. I can't rip out my stitches now. I got a 56 stitches along my lower left back and 15 staples on my left arm. The doctors said I'm very lucky to not have hit a major blood vessel. They pulled out almost a hundred pieces of glass from arm alone. The real problems was that I'm bandaged all around so I have limited movement in my left arm.

I adjusted myself into a more comfortable position, even when I barely move I could feel every single stitch and staple. I have a feeling you'll see me crying tonite when I try to sleep.

I'm not trying to be big badass or anything, I cry like everyone else and I feel pain. I may try to hide it but other than that, I'm just like you.

I see this red Pontiac Grand Am pull up. There's Scarlett, she said she had a red Pontiac. Not exactly an American car but I'm not picky now. A car is a car. I'm just glad to finally be going home. I stood up and felt my back being stretched. I could feel the stitches barely holding me together.

Scarlett runs out of her car to help me. She's in sweats and a shirt 2 sizes too big for her.

"You idiot. You just jumped into glass and you're trying to walk it off like nothing? How many stitches did you get?"

"I got 56 stitches and some staples on my arm."

"And you want to walk?? How are you not in this hospital more often??"

She put my non-stapled arm around her shoulders and walked me to the car. It took me awhile to get in because I can't exactly bend over with my back messed up.

When we finally got everything situated we started to leave. We got the street before she realized she didn't know where I lived.

"Just a few miles up the road. Keep going up Jefferson. I'll let you know where to turn."

"Alrighty then." She said in a cheerful manner. Why was she so happy this late in the evening?

I watched the street lights pass for a couple minutes before I decided to start a conversation.

"So how's school going?"

She seemed surprised when I asked,

"Oh it's going good. Haven't been to class in awhile but I just need to show up for the final and I'll be good."

"Nice, sounds like you got more time on your hands with school."

"I would say more time, but better hours than all day of school."

She stopped at a red light, I felt the stitches stretch a bit.

"Ow."

She looks over, "Oh I'm sorry. I should slow down further back from the light."

"It's ok. More discomfort than pain." I lied.

"Bullshit! You got stitches all throughout your back and you're telling me it just some discomfort?"

I smiled and looked out the window as we drove down the street some more. Have you ever wondered who worked there? In those seemingly random buildings? I always think that when I see them this late.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know I'm being shaken awake.

Not remember in the pain I woke up pretty fast.

"What? What? What is it??"

Scarlett jumped, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to know which apartment complex is yours."

I looked around, not knowing where we were. I didn't recognize anything. I kept looking around confused. Also I noticed we were parked.

"I live at the Tower High Estates."

She turned the car around. And drive down the street.

"We just passed it. So what apartment number is yours?"

I still didn't know where we're at. Must be up in the rich owners. That's probably why I didn't recognize it. We pulled into the complex and started looking for my apartment.

"It's number 164." I said, half asleep. I was dozing off again. Wow, I'm really a lightweight with pain medicine. This shouldn't be legal, too much of a high.

"I see it." Scarlett said as she parked the car. I looked up and saw my door. This is gonna hurt like hell walking to it.

"Well come on. I wanna get home too."

I looked over at her and smiled. A thought came across my mind.

"Or you could stay here with me."