If I Stay » Parker

where you were

three;
where you were.

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WHERE YOU WERE after it happened was something I'd never forget. We arrived at the hospital after a chaotic ambulance ride filled with needles, blood, and me frantically trying to figure out what was going on. They wheeled me through the hallways, nurses and PA's running around to do all sorts of things, but all I did was keep my hand on the gurney that my body laid in.

So many thoughts and questions were racing through my head. I wanted to know what happened to my parents, where they were going to be treated, for my entire existence refused to believe that they weren't going to make it. I was desperate to find out where my brother was, but quickly found out that no matter who I asked or tried to talk to, none of them could notice me.

This only caused my panic to set in even more, for so much was happening around me, happening to me, yet I couldn't even make a sound for people to hear. I just had to go along with it all, hoping that I would survive. As I stared at my pale, beaten up body, I felt overwrought with emotion. I wasn't ready to leave.

I didn't want to die. Not then.

I still had so much to live for. I had faith that my family would be okay. I couldn't leave them behind. I was hoping to get into Juilliard, to play the violin professionally and live a career that brought me true joy. I had a friend who cared about me more than anything, and a boyfriend who loved me. Ever since I was little, I'd mapped out my whole life, set a game plan and a schedule for everything to happen. Now, everything was falling to pieces and I had absolutely no control over it.

They continued pushing me through the hallways, and I picked up on some of the doctors' conversations, learning that they were getting ready to perform surgery. The crash was so bad, they said, that it was a miracle that the impact alone didn't kill me. They were able to pull my body from the rubble, yet the injuries were numerous; internal bleeding, four broken ribs, and cervical dislocation in my neck.

This one nurse came up to me as they prepared to take me in. Her dark, curly hair was tied up into a hair net, and she pulled down her mask for just a second, bending down to whisper in my ear quietly. "Here's the secret baby: if you live, if you die, it's all up to you. So, whatever fight you got in you, you gotta pull it out now."

It's like she knew exactly what I was going through as I watched them wheel my body into the operating room, lifting it up onto the table. I turned away, not being able to watch, but I kept close by. I felt every cut, every incision that they made. It wasn't a terrible pain, not what I would've expected. But it was there.