A car accident? No, couldn’t be. I just got this car. I just got this car 2 weeks ago. A car accident? I need to find out what happened. Wow, I don’t remember anything. I must have blacked out directly after the accident. No, this can’t be.
But it was.
I was in the hospital bed right now, with a broken arm and lung problem. Actually, I had the lung problem long before this ever happened. It was always difficult to breathe. Actually, the doctor’s are surprised that I’ve made it this long.
It isn’t luck anymore, it’s magic.
And now it isn’t even good magic.
I’ve hated my life ever since I was little. Actually, things just started getting better for me. I moved out 6 months ago, at the age of 17. And now, I was in an accident. Better not tell my parents.
They’ll probably know anyway. That’s what usually happens.
“He’s awake.” Awake? How long had I been out? Surely couldn’t have been that long. Looking up, I find that the nurse was not talking about me. Rather, the frail and old patient next to me.
I should’ve gone to medical school.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been a disgrace to my parents. Instead, I’m in a worthless major known as Art.
Everybody knows Art doesn’t go anywhere.
Even if it is the only thing that makes me happy.
The world doesn’t care about happiness.
“Excuse me,” I manage to spit out. Man, my lungs were being bad to today. The nurse looks at me.
“What is going on?” I ask. By now I’m sitting up. The nurse walks over and lays me back down, then walks out.
“Excuse me?” I say, mostly to myself. Looks like I was going to be here a while longer. Then I hear a nasty cough. A long, nasty cough. Then I feel eyes looking at me.
“Car accident,” The old patient in the bed next to me manages to say. It sounded like he said that as a pronoun. Like Car accident was my name.
“Um, yes?” I ask, turning my head only. An old patient he was. Probably in his late 80s, if not 90s. He pointed at me. Old people always point.
“Leave,” he says. Leave? Oh I would if I could.
“… Can I?” I ask. The man nods. Then, his hand drops. Almost in slow motion his eyes close and the little machine next to him lets out a long beat. Horrified, I looked around for the nurse. In an instant 3 of them came in. They unplugged the machine from the man.
Why weren’t they trying to save him?
“Save him!” I say, surprising even myself. They look at me for a second, then go back to the man. What was wrong with them?
Oh well. How would I know? I’m not a nurse. One of the nurses opens up a window to let in some light. I look out it. Sun hurts my eyes for a second, but they adjust quickly. Out the window I see a white building. My eyesight is pretty bad, so I squint to see the writing on it.
In big blue letters I see the word “Hospice” printed on it.
My heart stops for a second.
Or maybe it was more.