The doctor's said I was in a coma. They said I was brain dead. Well I'm not. I can hear every sob my mother gives, every word Phil says. Each lie he tells her about how he tried to save me. I hate him. I hate him so much. If I get out of this I'll fucking kill him.
"The chance's of Daniel waking up are slim, Miss. Howell, Mr. Lester. I'm sorry. All we can do is wait."
And wait they did. They never left. They kept whispering 'comforting' words in my ear. I wanted them to go away. I didn't want them here. I know they wanted me to wake up but I didn't want to. What reason should I have to wake up? Everyone hates me. If I wake up, Phil will just be worse because I proved him right. I can't do anything properly.
"Dan, please wake up. What about your brother?" My mother said.
No. Not my brother. He's dead. He died when the cops shot our pathetic excuse for a father. He was disgusting, constantly abusing my brother and I. There was so much he did to us that I didn't want to remember but she'd brought it all back. He wouldn't want me to die like this. He wouldn't want me to take my own life.
Now, I had a reason to wake up fromt his. I focused every ounce of attention into trying to move one of my fingers. After a few tries, I felt it move and I felt joy shoot through me. Next, I moved to trying to open my eyes. This part was harder but I got it. The hospital light blinded me and I had to blink a few times before Phil and my mother's sleeping forms came into view. Good. I didn't want them awake when I woke up.
It seemed as though after I got my eyes working, my brain kicked into gear and slowly but surely I gained control of the rest of my body. I heard the heart monitor pick up its beeping as my blood began to flow faster, and this, of course, woke Phil. How my mother slept through it, I'll never know.
"Dan... I'm so sorry..." Phil whispered, sadness in his eyes.
He looked tired, I could see the bags under his eyes. He reached his hand out to touch me and I jerked away.
"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." I growled.