Unbroken

Chapter 6: I'm Broken

There were ups and downs to staying in a hospital for an extended period of time.

UP: You have your own bathroom and television.

DOWN: Said television doesn't always have the channels you want and/or may not work at all.

UP: You have lots of time to yourself to think.

DOWN: You have lots of time to yourself to think about things that arn't necessarily happy.

UP: You get free food.

DOWN: The food sucks.

It had been almost three weeks since the accident. I had cried more times than I could count, experienced a whirlwind of emotions, and had three more panic attacks like the first one. They all happened while I was asleep.

I would be dreaming about something. Sometimes my dreams would be replaying the accident, I would be falling down a black hole, or something just as horrible and agonizing.

I would wake up in a cold sweat, screaming my lungs out. I would yell things that only made sense to me. The doctors would pin me down.

At first, they would just say nice things to try and relax me, but it never worked. They always ended up having to inject some liquid into my leg. The right one, since the left isn't exactly in condition to be stuck with needles.

My family is staying at a hotel, which the boys are paying for. The entire family argued with them, but those five adorable faces can be pretty persuasive. Mom was on edge. She talked to me like I was a ticking time bomb. One slip up and I would explode. Well, that might be true, but I don't appreciate being treated like a child. I can handle this. I've accepted the fact that I won't be able to dance ever again. Wait... 'accepted' isn't the right word. I've... dealt with the fact that I won't be able to dance ever again. Mom hasn't though. She keeps avoiding the subject and acting weird around me. I don't like it when she does that. It makes me feel small and weak.

The twins are... well, the twins. Luke wants a heart monitor like mine to keep a beat. That boy is going to be the best drummer in the world someday. He can find rhythm in absolutely anything. He will be selling out arenas and playing Madison Square Garden someday. Logan, on the other hand, is more artsy. He keeps doodling on my hospital gown. So far he has drawn a cat, a bird, a cat eating a bird, a car, him driving said car, and me. He drew a beautiful picture of me, and I may have teared up a bit when he showed it to me. Logan is going to be the next Picasso. I'm telling you, gingers are taking over the world, and these twins are no exception.

Olivia is still quiet. She comes to see me everyday, says hello, asks me how I'm doing, then sketches. I don't understand it. Why is she acting so strange? Every time I try to strike up conversation with her, she gives a mumbled response and returns to silent mode. It really pissed me off.

She has absolutely NO reason to be upset right now. I'm the one stuck in the fucking hospital bed! I'm the one who has a crushed fucking leg! I'M THE ONE WHO HAS LOST THE ONE GOOD THING IN HER LIFE!

Whoa... Sorry, guys. I just lost it for a second there. I didn't want to be angry, but I was. I mean, how could I not be furious after everything that happened? I mean, I've been a good kid. I ate my fruits and vegetables, went to church every Sunday, and I loved my family and behaved. What did I do wrong? I'm a good person!

Why didn't this happen to a murderer or a thief? Huh!? Why didn't this happen to someone who deserves it? The universe is so damn confusing!

And, I shouldn't say it was the one good thing in my life. I had wonderful things, but I didn't have many. I didn't get to do a lot of things other kids in school did because money was so tight. Olivia babysits to pay for fabric and sketchbooks. Logan and Luke do yard work for the neighbors to pay for paint and music. I work at Rosebuds to pay for dance shoes and clothes. I wanted to make enough to pay for lessons, but I never made enough.