Scars || m.c AU

Chapter 2

Pulling my shirt over my head, I sigh. It's been a long few days in the hospital.

I had to stay for three more days, while everything started to heal. They're letting me go home, because the doctor thinks it's a good idea to rest in a familiar setting.

But it won't be.

Now that all of his stuff is gone, nothing will be familiar.

I mean, sure, my room will look the same, and so will other parts of the house. But not his room. I don't want to be there, while he's not. I don't want to sit at the stools where he used to sit. I don't even want to watch the commercials he used to laugh about.

Stepping out of the bathroom though, I notice my father waiting for me in the little chair by the bed. My father looks the most like him, and that's why I haven't been able to look at him for too long lately. Every time I look at him I'm reminded of his absence in our lives.

"Your mother's just filling out some paperwork right now, Mary. After she's finished we'll be ready to go." My father says, standing there awkwardly.

I know that he wants to give me a hug, but he can't due to my injuries. I could barely put my shirt on without everything hurting, so I don't know how I'd react to a hug.

As we walk down the hall, I notice my dad staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I know what he's staring at.

A large scar is stitched up on the right side of my face. It trails down from my temple, and stops a little before the corner of my mouth. I try not to look at it whenever I'm presented with a mirror. It's horrible looking, and probably the worst scar I've got on me.

I have others, but they aren't as large as this one. I mean, I have a few suggestively large ones on my face, but nothing like that one.

I also have smaller ones littering my body everywhere. Few of those are noticeable, as they can't be covered by clothes, but others are mostly hidden.

I turn and look at my dad, and he turns his head hastily. I already know people will be giving me weird looks everywhere I go. For Pete's sake, even people in this damn hospital are giving me strange looks.

I see my mother at the front desk, and when I got closer I learned that she was setting up another appointment for the stitches to come out.

"...yes, two weeks from now will be perfect." My mother said to the lady.

I went ahead and took a seat, since my dad went to help my mother, and standing was hard now because it took my energy fast. I made sure to sit in a chair that was the last one in the row, so no one would see my scar easily.

I waited a good fifteen minutes until my parents came over to get me. My mother was carrying a thick yellow folder, and my father was carrying my overnight bag which contained my clothes.

Apparently, due to some rule in the hospital, I needed to be escorted out in a wheel chair by a nurse. I felt pathetic sitting in it, but I was also grateful because walking was a painful experience nowadays.

Once in the car, an awkward silence filled the air. Even though the paramedics had taken a test to see if I was under the influence of alcohol, and it came out negative, I still feel like my mother thinks I was drunk while driving.

Before he died, I had barely tasted alcohol. After, though, I went on a streak of partying, and drinking even though I wasn't a partier at all. It wasn't like I just stayed in all the time doing homework. I had a small group of real friends, but never went to party's with them because I was constantly scared that if I left the house other than to go to school, something bad would happen to him.

By the time we got home, it was already three in the afternoon. I was told to stay in bed all day, and to not move unless I had to for a few weeks until I started physical therapy.

I spent the remainder of the day in bed, and in the middle of the show I was watching, my parents walked in.

"Hi..." I said as I tried to sit up.

"Hello Mary, how are you feeling?" My mother asks.

"Sore." I say with a grimace.

"Well we brought you your medication," she placed the bottle near my water on the stand. "And we just wanted to ask you a few questions."

Great. I know they are going to ask about the crash, but I honestly can't tell them anything I haven't already told anyone.

"I already told everyone what I remember."

"But don't you remember anything else, honey? Do you remember going anywhere, seeing anyone, drinking anything?" My mother asked with her tight lipped smile.

I sigh. "I really don't remember anything after leaving the house. I'm sorry, but if I remember anything else I'll tell you."

My mothers smile gets even more tight before she finally sighs and leans down to kiss my forehead.

"Goodnight, Mary." She says, then leaves the room.

My dad leans down and hugs me softly, then leaves.

I reach over to my night stand and grab the bottle of pills and water. As I swallow the pills, I become aggravated. I've been angry a lot ever since I woke up, because I can't remember anything. It's a horrible feeling, and it's worse for me because I like knowing what's happening. But I can't.

I can't remember anything. There aren't even any flashes of memories.

I slam the bottle down as stress tears start falling. I hate not knowing what happened. It pisses me off to no end. But what pisses me off even more, is the fact that someone out there actually knows what happened. They know how I ended up in a crash, but they didn't even stay to see if I was alright. They obviously came in contact with my car, because the dents were recognized as another car.

The tears start flowing faster, but I don't even realize as the medication starts to take affect. I slowly fall asleep, still pissed off, but more than anything confused.

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A/N sorry if the spacing is weird lol and if there are any spelling errors sorry about that too

Xx -M