Blindsided ch1

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Finn's POV


"Mom, I fine." I whine as my mother nags over everything I do. I'm sitting in the waiting area for the rehabilitation sector in the hospital, trying not to do something that'll make Mom have a heart attack. I try to open and close my gimp hand, but I can feel the muscles barely move.

"Finn, I just want to make sure you're okay. Is your hand cramped? Do your eyes hurt?" I hear her fret. Jeeze, this woman. She just has to make me feel all weak and helpless. 

Rolling my eyes, I register a shift in the light to my left -- most likely Dad coming back from returning the release forms. "Ready, son?"  His voice hits my ears almost like a whisper; he's always been the quiet one of the family, but he seems even more tacit nowadays.

Or maybe I'm going deaf too. Then again, I thought being blind heightened your other senses! Maybe it just takes time. After all, I've only been blind for a few weeks now. Oh my god. I bet my hair's regrowth is just horrid. 

Flicking the (what I'm hoping is still) blue hair off of my face, I cradle my fucked up hand against my stomach. I stand up, ready to leave, and instantly my mother puts her arms around me as if I'm going to walk into a fucking wall or some shit. 

I allow her to lead me out the doors and to the car. I know she just wants to help, and I'm thankful for that! But there comes a point to when helping just turns into extreme coddling and cosseting which turns into a psycho-lady-locking-up-her-kid-forever type of situation.

I huge decrease in light tells me we've passed the bright, fluorescent lights of the hospital into the dark black of the night. Tripping over my feet, I cling to the side of my mom. I don't like when it's dark out. That means there's no light, and when there's no light, I can't see for shit and the surreal sensation of being blind hits me like a bus.

My mom has to help me up into the Jeep, knowing I'm too short and sightless to do it myself. Maybe I really am as weak and helpless as everyone thinks I am now. I mean, sight is probably our greatest asset. Without it, I'm lost.

The car lurches forward and I smile slightly at the idea of returning home. To see- I mean... Oh jeeze. That's awkward. To... I don't know, feel I guess? Ah screw it; to see my dog, Jake, again. To sleep in my own bed. To not have to exercise my lame hand for most of the day. I really missed my home.

But this whole situation is just... weird. It's like you never think this type of think could ever happen to, then when it does, you just don't expect it to feel so fake, so unreal.

I don't even regret going to that party the night of the crash. I know I was completely sober, but the guy that crashed into me afterwards wasn't. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and if it wasn't me, it would've just been someone else, so it's no big deal.

I was the lucky one even! The drunk driver died a few hours after the car crash, while I walk away practically golden. The hit to my head could've wrecked how my entire body functions, but I came out with only a gimp hand that may regain muscle function after a few months of physical therapoy.

And even for a blind person, I've got it good! I can still detect changes and movement in light when most people are stuck in pitch blackness forever. The only thing blocking my vision are the scars on my eyes from the glass of the windshield and the surgical scars from when they (the doctors) had to remove said glass.

After a while of sitting in darkness and silence, I feel along the back of the seat until I can tap on my mom's shoulder. "Hey Ma, can you hand me my iPod?"

"Of course, sweetie." She rushes to find it. "What song do you want to listen to?"

Oh. Right. Blind. Gotcha. "Um, just got to 'artists', find Memphis May Fire and put it on shuffle."

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