The Crash

Chapter 4

Morgan

I haven't stopped thinking about Alex since I saw him a few days ago. I'm not sure if it was the way he smiled at me with his perfectly straight teeth or how he was taller than me yet when he stood next to me he didn't tower. Maybe it was his bright blue eyes or his sandy blond hair or how he would speak to me with a soft voice and didn't yell anything at me, I thought I recognised it from somewhere but I came to the conclusion that it was probably when I had heard him talking while I was in the coma. There was a jumble of voices in there that I didn't recognise but I just assume that they're doctors and nurses. Either way I knew there was something about this guy that appealed to me.

Today I had my first session of physiotherapy and it was tiring. A nurse came to my room with two long metal bars on stands, they looked like the bars you would use if you did ballet. She secured them to the floor and helped me out of my bed.

I remember when I put my feet down I felt like my legs didn't belong to me. I felt like I was walking on twigs and I couldn't control them properly.

She gently guided me across the room, holding me up as my legs practically dragged behind me. She placed my hands on the bars and I held on for dear life as I tried to take steps.

I took one step before my legs gave way completely and I fell to the floor. I just sat there, expecting somebody to help me up but the nurse just stood and I had to try and pull myself up instead.

This went on for a long time and I made no progress. I couldn't keep myself up after one step and I was humiliated when I got back into my bed and covered my face with my hands.

"It's alright darling," mum cooed as I felt her place a hand on my arm, "You'll get it eventually"

I did this every day twice a day until I had done six sessions of it and had made absolutely no progress and every time my mum would tell me the same thing,

"You'll get it eventually"

Until I turned around and said,

"I need to get it now! How am I going to go back to the track if I can't even walk!" I yelled at her and she looked taken aback.

"You're not going back to that track" she said, her face hardening with her words.

"What?" I frowned, thinking this was some kind of sick joke, "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not kidding. You're not going down to that track. I've lost you once already and I refuse to let it happen again." She shook her head

"That's so unfair!" I cried, "You know what racing means to me, you can't just take that away from me!"

"Well racing took your father away from me and I refuse to lose you for a second time so I think you'll find that I have every right to stop you from going" I saw a tear in her eye and I looked away.

She was right. She did lose my dad to racing.

Racing was his life and he loved it more than anything – not as much as he loved my mum but he loved it all the same. He got me into it when I was about 7, I started driving carts and things and he would teach me and take me out on his practice laps. It was so much fun and I loved every second of it.

When I was 9 years old my dad qualified for the stock car racing championships and he was so excited and happy. My mum and I sat in the stands to watch him when something went wrong. The car in front of him started smoking from its exhaust. My dad was going too fast and the smoke blocked his vision, he rammed into the car in front of him and then hit the wall. The impact killed him instantly.

My mum and I were devastated but the fact that he had always encouraged me to race, it made me want to do it even more. Mum tried to stop me but I was driven by the grief – pun not intended. I didn't mourn. I drove. And I got good at it.

The coach at the track told mum it would be safe for me to drive and he would make sure it was but I guess she doesn't believe him any more. Not after this.

I can't say I blame her for wanting to stop me but I was angry. This was the one thing I had that kept me going in life and she was taking that away from me.

"I think you should go" I said quietly, "Get some rest at home"

"Morgan, please" I held up my hand to stop her from speaking. I didn't want to hear it

"Just go home mum" I almost whispered and she walked out of the room.

I knew I had upset her but I didn't care. I want to race. And now I can't.

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lmao remember when i said "i'll be back tomorrow" bc same