The last bell of the day rang and excitement soared through my body. I quickly gathered my things and hurried out the door, looking to find Chris, my boyfriend. I ran into him in the parking lot as we waited for my mother to come pick us up. It was the last day of school and today we are leaving on a trip. My brother brushed by me on his way to his car. He turned and smiled.

“I’ll see you next weekend.” He said with a smile and a wink. Even though he was only my step brother, we’re still pretty tight. He lives with my dad and his mom while I live with my mom. He’s a year older than Chris and I are. He’s sixteen and we’re going to be fifteen soon. They’re all pretty chill, and I enjoy spending time with all of them but this week was just for the three of us, meaning my mother, my boyfriend, and I. Chris and I have been going out for a year, tomorrow, and my mother was picking us up to drive us to our beach house to celebrate.

My mother pulled up and I got into the passengers seat of her car. “Hey mom.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss as Chris got into the back seat.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lakeland.” Chris said as he shut his door.

“Have a nice last day of school, guys?” My mom asked as she pulled out of the parking lot. We weren’t even going home, she was taking us straight there. Excitement tore through me as I awaited our arrival at our house. I even bought a new bathing suit to celebrate our anniversary.

“Yeah, but it’s this week I’m excited about. We’re going to have an awesome time!” I said excitedly as I switched on the radio.

Chris smiled. “Yeah we are.”

We drove for a few hours until it got dark. I glanced back at Chris and gave him an excited smile which he returned, but as I turned back around, someone merged into our lane…and right into our front bumper. Our car started spinning and we hit the guard rail. I watched as my mother, who had not been wearing her seatbelt, was hurled from the car and the car hit the guard rail one more time. My window had been smashed and the glass had cut me. My body had been slammed around, but I was numb. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t think. All I could do was watch my mother’s crumpled form on the pavement ahead.

I tried to open the door but it wouldn’t open. The metal had been twisted keeping the door shut. I grabbed onto the top of the door, the broken glass digging into my already wounded hands and cutting them up even worse, and pulled myself from the car. I got out and my feet crunched on the broken glass as I hobbled over to where my mother was.

I fell to my knees, not even flinching as the hard pavement struck my knees. I looked at her and realized that she was gone. I quickly wrapped her in my arms, hoping to bring her back. I couldn’t hear anything. Not the sound of the cars screeching to a stop. Not the cars that whizzed by. Not Chris trying to calm me down or bring me away from my mother or try to inform me of the multiple serious injuries that I had sustained and didn’t even feel. I couldn’t feel the tears spilling down my cheeks. Nothing mattered except my mother’s lifeless body in my arms as I knelt on the pavement.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That day, my puzzle fell off the table, and I had no idea where to start to pick up the pieces to my shattered life.

I started slowly. After I had gotten out of the hospital I did physical therapy to help me walk again. Everything told those stupid doctors that I shouldn’t have been able to climb out of the car let alone run over to my mother, but what do they know? After the surgery they did on my leg, they sent a therapist to the hospital to talk to me. What was I supposed to say? That I was sorry that I lived when she didn’t? Then they would have told me that that is a natural feeling but that it’s not my fault and I shouldn’t think that. What good would that have done?

The whole time I remained silent.

That worried my father, but most everything does these days. I worry him when I trip and fall. He worries that my leg will mysteriously break again. He worries that when I want to stay home instead of go out with my friends that I’m suicidal. He worried when I broke up with Chris that I was trying to forget everything that was connected with that day…with my mother.

But what he doesn’t know is that I can’t forget. No matter how hard I try, I can’t.

It’s not that I want to forget my mother. I love her and will never forget her. I just don’t want to remember that day. Who would?

He worries because I haven’t dated since Chris, but I just don’t want to be with anyone right now.

I obviously moved in with my father, my stepmother, and my stepbrother. They worry, too. My stepbrother, Jason, always invites me wherever he goes. I know he doesn’t want me to go, so I usually decline, but it’s still a nice gesture. Why wouldn’t he want his mope of a stepsister to go with him and his friends? Go figure. I try to be happy. I try so hard it hurts. I’ve become a lot better lately. Half the time I truly am happy, and sometimes that hurts. Jason understands. He can see the difference between my fake happy and my real happy. That’s brought us closer than we’ve ever been, and him just realizing when I’m fake happy, helps me be really happy. Sometimes we sit in the playroom and talk. I talk to him way more than anyone else, including Dr. D., my therapist. He understands because he lost his father. Not in the same way, he lost his to cancer, but a loss is a loss.

The one year anniversary is approaching quickly, and I feel any and all progress deteriorating. And I think that scares me most of all.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A/N: Alright, so this is my newest story. I think it's going to be really great, and I've already got a couple of chapters written on it. If it happens to be a flop, I'll take it down. But so far it looks great. I've been working on it for a while now. Please review. This is just a short prologue to introduce the background of the main charachter. Again, reviews are really appreciated. Thanks for reading!

BookWorm22202