The Jock's Nurse for the Summer.

Chapter Two.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!" The voice screamed, breaking in between the words fucking and crazy, making me wonder whether I hit a man or a chipmunk.

But I had hurt neither. I had just drove my car into Jackson Waters. Why couldn't it just be a loner kid, just like me? Why did I have to hit the most popular and arrogant jock known in my high school.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, babbling apologies but he quickly flinched away. His determination to get up swiftly deteriorated after a sudden attempt at trying to get up only made for a reenactment of a Whitney Houston's concert. Suddenly, the air was filled with him screaming at the top of his lungs. He started clutching at his right leg, and I turned around to look at it; I grimaced at the sight!

Blood was splattered around his knee, as messily as a child would pour ketchup, eager to devour their chips with. I couldn't even think about chips due to the terror of what I had done to him. Thick blood dripped from his knee, and then that's when I had realised something strange. Is that a stone, I thought, as I squinted but then my entire body went cold.

That's no stone, Alexa. That's a bone.

Dialling up the ambulance is probably a human instinct after witnessing a horrific incident and I had this built into mine as I nearly dropped my phone trying to tap the three numbers in.To my ultimate relief, the ambulance had arrived rather quickly so I couldn't break another world record and apologise another billion more times. Three men carried him into the ambulance van and despite how much I wanted to go home to try my best to forget about the whole situation, I hopped into the van.

A piece of my heart shattered as rapidly as you can break off chocolate. It's funny how things can completely change in the blink of an eye. All right, it's not funny! It's not funny at all. His parents can literally sue me if they wanted to. And I'm pretty sure they'll want to after they know that I'm responsible for breaking their son.

We got to the hospital, and I was told to wait and to not worry. That's easy for you to say, I thought, you're the one who helps people, not hurt them. I chose a seat far from where a family of six sat. Their faces were drowning in concern, and I couldn't stand to be around their aura. And so I drowned in my own concern, alone.

"Are you Alexa Enfield?" A young voice said, and I tilted my head up from my hands, where I was burying my thoughts into the darkness.

Catching a quick glimpse of the time, I was dumbfounded when I counted the time and realised I had spent four hours in the waiting room. Reaching into my pocket, I took out my phone and vigorously tapped in a message informing my father that I'd be spending the day at a mate's house. I didn't really see any missed calls at all, but I'm just going to pretend that he was too busy.

"If you would like to, Jackson is able to see you right now." She smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth which I was sure she had saved a year's salary to do, as they were so white, I swear I had to squint a little.

A long white cloak clung onto her tall and slender body. And unless she was following a weird kind of fashion trend, (I'd suspect Lady Gaga as her inspiration) she was a nurse, and ready to inform a long list of horrible tragedies.

'He may never walk again.'

'We're going to have to amputate his leg.'

'He's paralysed from the waist down.'

'The trauma has put him into a coma.'

'He also has diabetes.'

I'm not too certain on the last one, but I'm pretty sure that'd be my fault too. I had officially broken the quarter-back jock, whom had victoriously taken our team up to success. Not that I really cared though, but the whole school was definitely going to hate me. No one will ever let me live it down, I drastically and realistically thought. I might as well bring a cup with me to school, so that I can use something to scrape the slushies into, when his little buddies find out. Free slushies were never a bad thing, right? Plus, I won't have to go through all the trouble of applying make up since I'll be forced to work the Oh-So-Chic, Oh-So-Slush look.

"If you'd like to just follow me, Ms.Enfield?" She said, a hand gesturing me into the area beyond the two closed doors.

After she beeped her security card, we walked past many patients, and the air, filled with beeping machines, tasted bitter. The noise ignited a weird feeling in me, and I wanted to just rip my ears out.

When a bad memory is implanted in a place, anything to do with it can easily frustrate you. I quickly realised this after I had to spend most of my childhood in hospitals because my mother had cancer. My hand clinging onto her frail one, I'd never leave her sight even when her eyes were closed, and she was sleeping. But all I could do was force that awful image out from my mind. No matter how much I wanted to run away from this place, I had to be here. Jackson needed me. I might be the last person he'd ever even want to talk to, but there was nobody here with him.

"Jackson," The nurse nudged his arm, and he let out a little moan, "Somebody's here to see you."

He opened his eyes, but only a little so he was squinting.

"Mum?" He spoke finally, but his voice was so dry, and I quickly felt the need to fetch him some water.

The nurse chuckled, before ticking something on the piece of paper secured in her clipboard. Maybe it was the answer to whether Jackson was deluded.

"I'll leave you two to talk." She said before she made her way out, but her presence was quickly replaced with somebody else.

Its name was Silence, Awkward Silence.

"Look, Jackson I'm still really sorry," I pleaded yet again, and despite how pathetic it made me feel, I didn't know what else to do.

A long while passed and during that time, it seemed as though my eyebrows had knitted together - permanently. His fiercely strict eyes remained on a spot which he never broke contact with and that spot was far from my face. He seemed too disgusted and upset to even look at me when I spoke. It made my heart drop a little. All right, a lot!

"Unless your little sorry is a time machine and can undo what just happened, and maybe your birth too, then I'm not that interested." He fidgeted underneath the small sheet of paper they call a blanket, and turned away completely from me.

"That's a little harsh" I wanted to say to myself, and I had no intention to say it out aloud, but he had heard. Stupid brain.

"Harsh?" He repeated, in disbelief, "Harsh would be me calling up the police to report you, or sueing you for what you have done." He spat out words of poisonous venom, "I may have just lost my football scholarship thanks to you."

And in that moment, I felt so small.