Butterflies and Fireworks

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"What do you mean, just suspended! .... No, I am coming to that school to take statements and an arrest will be made."

I opened my eyes and looked around my room. My father was pacing angrily as he was talking on the phone. My guess is that he was speaking to the Principal.

"Who do I think I am to make such demands? Surely you remember that I am the Chief of Police. My daughter was nearly beat to death, this isn't a teenage quarrel, this is battery.... if I wanted I could push it as far as attempted homicide!" He raised his voice.

I bit my lip. Attempted homicide would ruin her life before it even started.

"You will be hearing from the school board, proper protocol would be to call for police in this kind of violence..... THE HELL YOU DID! I checked the reports and none were made!" He lowered the phone from his ear and pressed a button before putting it away in his pocket.

He then turned and walked over towards my bed and took a seat in the chair beside it. He stared at his feet, unknowing that I was awake. I was thinking that he didn't look in my direction but he did, so that must mean my face was swollen so badly he couldn't tell.

"Dad?" I spoke.

He glanced up at me and then moved closer to my bedside. "Sophers, I am so sorry. I promise justice will be served." He swore as he took my hands into his and cradled them.

"Dad.... please don't. It was-"

"It's done... Sophia, she could have killed you. You are lucky you don't have any broken bones."

That reminded me. I focused hard and tried to wiggle my toes. There was still nothing. I couldn't even lift my legs.

"Dad!" I whined.

"What is it?"

"Scratch my leg for me please!" I pleaded.

I watched as he moved towards the end of the bed. The second his hand made contact with my skin I should have felt that, but I didn't. When he started scratching, I should've felt that, but I didn't.

"HARDER!" I shouted.

And he did. I began crying when nothing changed. I couldn't feel my legs, I couldn't move them.

"DADDY!" I began to sob.

He was back at my side, a look of panic on his face.

"What is it?"

"I can't feel my legs.... daddy, I can't feel my legs."

My father quickly left the room, only to return minutes later with Carlisle. He pulled back my blankets to reveal my legs and began pricking different parts of my leg with needles. He said this was to test my nerves.

When he finished the test, there was a grave look on his face.

"It is time to get an MRI done. I believe your spinal cord may have suffered some damage," he said in a severe tone.

"What does this mean?" My father asked as he squeezed my hand.

"We won't know the full extent of the damage until after an MRI is done. Worst case scenario, you will be bound to a wheel chair for the rest of your life."

"Oh my god." My gasped.

"Daddy, fix it please!" I cried.

This was one tragedy I couldn't blame on my sister. I did this myself. I ruined my life and Jessica's.

It was another hour before they were able to take me to get MRI's done. Just like Carlisle had suspected, I had spinal cord damage. He said it was a mild case, since I wasn't able to feel anything from my mid-thigh and down. This was a good thing, he told us, as most spinal cord injuries leave a person paralyzed from the neck down. I was lucky.

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