A Promise I'm Dying to Break

Chapter One - "You almost had permanent paralysis."

DISCLAIMER: Paige Hopewell, my own character, is from New Zealand in this entire story, meaning the way I type certain words may vary depending on where you're from. Yes, it's written like that on purpose. I wouldn't really expect American language and words to be the same as those actually from New Zealand, so please bear with me, as I'm trying to make this the most realistic as possible. Feedback in the comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

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My chest rises with a paroxysm of pain before falling again. My eyes open into thin slits, and I see nothing but a pure smudge of colors. I bring my hand up to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut again, which brings me some random source of temporary relief. I don't even realize the oxygen mask secured tightly on my face, and I scrunch up my nose imagining the red outline tracing around my nose and cheeks when it gets removed.

Someone enters the room with dark skin, and I can barely make out what they're saying. Ringing proceeds throughout my ears, almost making me wince.

Whoever it is brings two cold fingers to my cheeks, shooting a burning sensation of pain through it.

The ringing fades away within seconds, although the screwed up vision doesn't. However the case, some American blabbles something to me.

"Paige Hopewell. How many fingers am I holding up?"

I would roll my eyes if they didn't sting so badly. Instead, I purse my lips before speaking.

"My vision is quite crappy right now. And aren't you from New Zealand? Stop fooling-" I pause, my eyes being able to only adjust on the name tag as my sight begins improving, my eyes skimming over it painfully. "Ben."

"Ma'am, you're in the hospital. You're in the United States..." The man says, pressing his lips into a thin line. "And my name is Ben, not 'Bin'."

I attempt to sit up, but instantly my body brings itself back down, my head sinking into a pillow which is quite damp and flat.

Was I crying?

"Why am I in America?" I croak out, my voice scratchy and rougher than I thought it'd be. The man just stares at me before opening his mouth again, rubbing his chin.

"You...You were apparently coming in as an exchange student..." He mutters, my eyesight finally returning back to normal, allowing me to examine everything standing behind him. A dull, bleak, blue wall that looks somewhat thick, as if it were painted several times. A flower vase stands center of a small wooden, glossy table, although the contents old, or at least I assume they are, as the flowers inside are wrinkled and their brown, crimped petals surround the bottom of it. I swallow dryly, my eyes flickering back up to the male's face. I'd say he's in his early twenties or so.

"Oh, right...w-why..." I murmur, soreness waving over my back and hips.

"Why am I in the hospital?"

He exhales deeply, crossing his arms and leaning on my bed. I almost scowl at him.

"The plane you were on...Flight 1359...it was about to land where there was some malfunction in the rear. It bursted into flames as soon as the wheels hit the ground...luckily you weren't exactly too close to it, as your injuries would have been way much more severe, including how the landing was rather jerk-like and improper. Not many people died, but a lot are now paralyzed. You were one of the ones who almost had permanent paralysis. You're very lucky that it just fractured your ribs, and damaged your lungs. It could've gotten worst."

My jaw drops and I can't even get words to come out of my mouth.

"For now you'll feel shocks of pain sparingly, but I'd advise you to get some rest. You'll be taken to your host family within three weeks. Is that alright? If you still feel sick by then, I'm sure you can stay a day longer."