Broken

Chapter 9 [EDITED]

    “Lucy.” I feel my mom's hand stroking my hair. I've been in the hospital for over a week. “The doctor said that you're well enough to go, but you can't walk yet.” I look behind her and I see a wheel chair. Great. A wheelchair is worse than crutches, it means I can't go many places on my own. I'm now limited to flat surfaces.

    Dad comes in and he helps me sit up. My right leg tingles. I groan. My parents slowly help me into my wheelchair. Dad covers my legs with a blanket. Maybe it's for the people outside, but it's probably for me. I haven't seen anything yet. Mom grabs the handles and pushes me out of the room. I already feel light headed. I haven't moved anywhere in a long time. I see three people waiting for me, Alex, Annie, and Jackson.

    “Lucy!” Annie runs up to me. “I'm sorry I didn't go in there, but I didn't like seeing you like that. You just didn't look very good, you still don't.” She wraps her arms around me. Jackson comes up and hugs me from the other side. I hug them back in the best way I can.

    “I told you everything would be fine, Lucy. You're surrounded by people that love you,” Alex smiles at me.

    I look around. Someone is missing. “Where's Danny? Is he okay?” I look up at Alex.

    “Danny's fine. He went home to rest. He said he'd stop by at home today or tomorrow. He is tired, that's all.” Alex tells me. I nod. I can't expect him to always be here. He's injured, too. Alex takes my wheelchair from my mom and starts pushing me out towards the parking lot.

    “How long have you guys been here? Did you ever leave?” I ask my father. I feel bad for making them stay here for so long. I know they didn't leave, but I wish they did. We go through the automatic door. The sun is so bright that I have to keep my eyes down.

    “Annie and Jackson have gone home everyday, as well as your mother, but Alex and I have stayed here the whole time,” Dad answers. That's better than I thought it would be. I knew Alex wouldn't leave me here, he feels too guilty. And Dad cares too much about me. I'm surprised Mom went home. I thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but she probably didn't sleep at home, either.

    The conversation stops there. None of us have anything more to say to each other. I would ask Alex how school has changed – I'm sure it has, since the questioning – but he's been gone as long as I have. Eventually we reach our white mini-van. How am I supposed to get in there? My question is soon answered when Annie and Jackson each grab one of my arms and they help me stand. They guide me into the car. I sit down and sigh. It shouldn't be a big accomplishment to just sit down, but it is to me. The ride home is bumpy, and therefore very painful. Every jostle, every turn makes pain spike through my leg. Alex keeps his hand on my leg the whole way home, to calm me down. Sadly it doesn't work very well.

    When we get home, the order is reversed – Annie and Jackson help me down and sit me back into my wheelchair, which was in the back of the car. Alex pushes me. Once we get inside, everything looks different. Everything is different. Though everything is physically the same, it's all viewed from a different angle. I can't see over the back of the chair, I can't reach any of the shelves in the bookshelf. If I wasn't before, now I am broken.

    My parents slip past the four of us and they hide themselves in their room. A few minutes later, I hear my mom yelling at my dad. She's blaming him for everything that has happened to me. I would blame him, too, if it wasn't partially my fault. I didn't have to run away. I should have just stayed at the school. “I wish I could go downstairs,” I say. I look down the stairs and I see a light on. “What's that?” No one has been here since this morning, and my mom doesn't like to leave lights on when she leaves.

    Alex gets down to my level and looks down the stairs. “I don't know. I'll be right back. You three stay up here.” He slowly walks down the stairs. “Hello? Is anyone there?” When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he stands up straight. “What are you doing in here?” They mumble something back at him. “We already did what you wanted.” I hear someone say something along the lines of 'no'. “What do you mean? Yes we did.” They must have told him to bring me downstairs because he says, “She's in a wheelchair. She's not coming down here.” They say something else and he turns around and walks back up the stairs. “They want you to come down here, Lucy. Annie, Jackson, go to your rooms.” My younger siblings do as they’re told, without question.