Here I am. Sitting in the hospital bed, on my way to England. I look down. A bullet wound. In my stomach.
Throbbing.
Sore.
Pain.
My mom runs in along with my brother, Max.
"OMG honey, are you ok what happened to you!?" tears like rainfall start falling down her face.
"Honestly I have no clue." I say as tears start forming in my eyes.
I sit there. Drifting off into a deep sleep. Must be those pain killers.
----------3 days later------------
I wake up to the sound of ringing and bells.
"Were are you taking me miss?!" I tell at the top of my lungs. But It hurts to move. speak or do anything.
"Your mom said to put you on a plane in a wheelchair, then the people in England will bring you to collage. She wants to make sure your ok."
Is she joking? I mean she really thinks that I'm gonna go on a plane in a wheelchair. Whatever.
"Bobby will be taking you to the airport and get you on safely."
"Thanks." I say with a huge sigh.
I'm sitting in a van for handicapped. Can't believe I was shot. Don't even remember anything. All I remember was listening to Lorde then waking up in the hospital.
"I'll take you out then off to Engald." Bobby said happily.
"Great."
He wheeled me to the plane. I'm on first of course. As people get on everyone glares and stares. Except one perfect guy. He plops down right next to me and he looks at me. Up and down. Left to right. His brown eyes shimmer everywhere he looks. His brown hair. messy. handsome.
"Hi, I'm Louis. Everything ok?" He said calmly.
"Yeah. I guess. I was driving to the airport 3 weeks ago and then I guess I got shot in the lower stomach. I have no clue how. It's been horrible."
"Wow. Well if you need anything I'm going to be right next to you!" He says perfectly.
"Thanks!"
I can already tell. This will be fun.
3........2..........1............ and I'm off.
