A Horrible Flower

.1.

.A HORRIBLE FLOWER.:.A HORRIBLE ACCIDENT.

🌹🥀🌹

LILY

MY DAD DOESN'T ASK ABOUT MY MEETING WITH ELIZABETH.

It's not like him to neglect to ask questions about stuff like that.

In the morning of the next day, the only thing he says is: "Are you okay? You know, after yesterday. You weren't yourself."

I've found that he knows what I am like more than I do.

🌹🥀🌹

After a fulfilling breakfast of an entire granola bar, I reach for my brother's bike.

When my dad sees, he puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I turn towards him, my eyebrows furrowed. He's never stopped me before. My green eyes meet his black ones, painted with concern and grief that I don't understand.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to go out on your own?" He wonders.

I blink, thinking back to the countless times I have left the house without so much as a note. The early morning runs in the middle of a Michigan winter, the trips to the rundown market across the road, the bike rides to my job and back home. He's never stopped me before.

"I'm sure," I say, and even though my tone is confused, I think for a second he misunderstands it to be unsure. So I tell him again. Stronger. "I'm sure."

He lets me go, but not without pulling me in with a bear hug.

Minutes pass and soon enough I'm riding my bike on the sidewalk of a main road in Florida. Since my highly-recommended therapist was not in Michigan, my father decided to let me take a week off from home-schooling to come all the way down here.

I ride one-handed down the street, my other hand holding a water bottle. I find myself zoning out throughout it all. Occasionally, I glance up just to make sure I won't hit anything.

I stop at the corner of a street, watching and waiting for the green light to flicker to a red one. Unfortunately, cars continue to zoom past me as my gaze returns to a spot on the sidewalk that captivates me for reasons I don't know. I wait until I hear the cars in front of me come to a stop before I start to pedal once again, my eyes firmly glued to the floor before me.

And then I am hit by a car.

The impact makes me fly in the air, completely getting knocked off my bike, and I gasp aloud. As suddenly as I was in the sky, I was falling. I slam onto the hood of the car that hit me. Accidentally, I bite into my tongue, and the taste of blood makes me nauseous. A sharp pain travels up my left arm, seizing and making a home in my shoulder. It causes me to gasp in shock and squeeze my eyes shut. I bite my lip, feeling the bruises forming. Too afraid to move, I stay on the hood, curled up in a ball on my side and refusing to open my eyes. A tingly feeling shudders throughout my body, and I feel like I am going to pass out soon. I swallow against my dry throat, my tongue's blood going down with a lack of saliva.

I faintly hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut, causing the car to shake a bit. Footsteps approach, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as a pair of strong hands pull me towards them. The hands search all over me, gently gliding across my skin, pushing down in a few places, provoking a groan out of me. In response, the man curses violently under his breath. I taste blood again, and I realize I might've been biting my lip too hard.