Wheelchair +A.F.I.+Short Story+

Wheelchair

~I got an A for writing this for my World Literature class so I thought I would share it with you. Nobody that read it at school knew it's fanfic so it's a cute little secret. Enjoy, tell me what you think  -KFC~

My name is Skylar Davis, and this is my story. The everyday story you could hear from any teenage girl. In this story, something big impacts my life, along with my best friend Ashton's. We had a peaceful, simple life until one event flipped it upside down. 

We were driving home from school on a Friday six months ago, in early March. We were so glad that it was the weekend; we had so many fun things planned. 

I saw him reach for his phone in the cup holder as we headed down the road. "Ash? What're you doing? You're driving." I warned. I didn't want him making bad habits that could cost his life.

"It's fine, Sky. There's nobody on the road." He replied. I tried to take his phone away. "Sky, stop. You don't have to worry about it. Nothing will happen."

I gave up when I knew I shouldn't have. I watched him unlock his phone and reply to the text he received, his eyes completely off the road. As we crossed an intersection, a large maroon pickup truck t-boned us, on my side. Our car was tumbling for what felt like an eternity until we came to a stop, upside down, the car obviously totaled. 

I was feeling dizzy and numb as I managed to turn my head to look at Ashton. I saw him with blood running down his face, and he had a mangled forearm. The look on his face was heart wrenching; he looked sad and terrified. 

"Skylar," He whispered as he began to lose conscientiousness, "I'm so sorry." I tried reaching for him, and then everything went pitch black. 

I woke up in the hospital the following Sunday evening. I was in a beautiful room that was decorated with flowers, cards, balloons, and a large assortment of plush animals. I looked to my right to see a sleeping Ashton with a large bandage on his forehead, and his casted hand holding my IV'd one. He looked exhausted, with dark bags under his eyes. 

I decided to wake him. I weakly shook his shoulder. "Wha...Sky, you're awake!" He exclaimed as he jumped up to hug me tightly. "I thought you were gone. The doctors said you had such a small chance of making it. Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for what happened. It's all my fault and-"

"It's okay, it's all over now. I'm fine. I mean, I am mad, but I don't feel  it. I must be on a lot of drugs." I giggled in a small whisper, placing my hand on his cheek and wiping a tear away with my thumb, "This'll pass and we'll be fine." I forced a smile, but his frown only grew.

"Maybe not..." he whispered, sounding dispirited. I asked him why he thought we weren't going to be okay, and the next six words made my heart stop. "You're...paralyzed from the waist down."

I never thought I would feel so much pain from something said by a friend. I knew when we got hit by that truck, I would be hurt, but I didn't think I would end up with paralysis. I could now feel the anger and depression set in. I couldn't take it out on him though. I was too exhausted. 

I broke down into loud tears. Ashton sat on my hospital bed and allowed me to nuzzle into his chest to have his worn out Iron Maiden tee absorb every tear as he rubbed my back, but I couldn't feel it. My back was numb because of the pain killers I was given.

After I took control of my emotions, we talked to the doctor. I had two broken ribs and one fractured, all on the right, and a Thoracic Spinal Cord injury, not common because of the protection I was supposed to have from my rib cage, and that caused the paralysis. After healing, I'd have physical therapy to see if I could work out the paralysis, and I'd also have surgery to try and repair nerves. I'd be a happy camper if it all worked out.

-|-

After surgeries, healing, and five weeks of very painful therapy, I'd barely begun to relearn how to move my toes. The doctor said I was a bit ahead of others with the same injuries, but I felt that I wasn't making any progress. I almost gave up on regaining my strength, but Ashton didn't allow it.

"C'mon, Sky, don't give up on it. I know you want your legs back." He said, swinging like a little kid on the hammock under the weeping willow tree in my backyard, with me in a wheelchair next to it.

"I must be doing something wrong. Five weeks of therapy and all that surgery, and I can't even really move my toes. I'm just a dainty little girl stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life." I whined with tears forming in my eyes.

Ashton removed himself from the hammock and kneeled down in front of me, taking my hands in his "The problem is that you don't believe in yourself. You're not dainty, you're strong. I know you can do this, but we both know my support isn't enough to get you out of that wheelchair. You need to believe in yourself too." He lectured, looking up into my eyes with loving ones. "But you should know that I'm proud of you right now, even if you haven't completed the challenge."

I don't like to disappoint Ashton, so I kept trying for another five tortuous, painful weeks, concluding with good toe movement, and a little bit of full foot movement. Ashton stayed at my house to make sure I didn't skip my exercises, and to make sure I didn't fall down stairs or something. He didn't want anyone else looking after me; just him. He insisted on staying on the futon in my room to act as my "guardian angel", as he puts it, but he was put in the guest room by my mom, even if she thought the guardian angel thing was adorable.

-|-

I woke up on the Sunday of the twelfth week, at 10:49am. At this point, I could barely move my legs, but I was getting to the point where I could stand with a little assistance. I started out with the regular re-realization that my legs didn't work well, and that Ashton's going to act like a butler, doing every single thing for me. I stretched, but something was different. I stretched my legs a bit better than I had been able to do before, even not as much as the previous day. I stretched again, and felt the weak muscles all through my legs move better than they had for the past 3 months. They we're weak of course, but they moved.

"Ashton!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Within about ten seconds, he swung my bedroom door open and bolted over to me.

"What!? Are you okay!?" He asked, looking extremely tired with messy hair, but fully concerned.

"My legs moved when I stretched. Not a lot, but more than they have." I smile. 

"For real? Let me see!" He said ecstatically. I removed my blanket and I weakly moved my legs. I was pretty calm about it, but Ashton was over the moon, his hazel eyes were lit up. He hugged me like he had when I woke up in the hospital. The warm, safe hug I've always loved. "I'm so proud of you!" he kept repeating, picking me up bridal style and swinging me around.

He put me down and tried to get me to walk. He helped me balance, and I got three good steps, before I almost lost balance and fell into his arms. Through the rest of the day, he never left my side. He was so excited to see me almost walk again.

Eight weeks go by as I excel in regaining strength. I started to run a little bit, and Ashton's arm is finally fully functional again, him finally being able to play his guitars and drums again. We were sitting in my hammock again one day in July, talking as we wrote songs, a common hobby for us. We had a few moments of silence, listening to the wind going through the willow tree above us, when Ashton spoke up.

"I can't describe how proud I am of you, Skylar. You've done great over the past 20 weeks." He chuckles. "You're a fighter." He said, cuddling up to my side and hugging me tight, like always.

I giggled, hugging back. "That's so cliché."

"But it's true." He giggled. Yes, he giggled – a rare thing to hear from a guy.

I smile, setting my head on his shoulder. Getting lost in a wonderful daydream, I close my eyes and exhale, relaxed. "Whatever you say, Ash." 

 -|-

Thanks for reading and please vote, comment, and share with everyone! Please tell me what you think  -KFC~