"Mum, Mum. MUM!" I scream, "I'm fine!"
"Well, I know, but I just like to make sure."
"Mum," I whine, "It's fine, it's all fine. Nothing is wrong with m- OW!" I exclaim as she prods my ribs. "Mum, the doctor says it may be brusied for a while. Don't fuss!"
"You're obviously not 'fine', that shouldn't have hurt, look I'll so it to myself." I she taps her ribs.
"Yes, dear," she looks into her medicen bag.
"You didn't prod yourself as hard as you did too me. You're horrible, mean and annoying!"
"Don't you talk to your mother in that way, little missie." My dad says, his first proper contact since we came back from the hospital - unless of course, you count farting.
"Sorry, can we just hurry up and get to school? I've already missed first lesson, and now my perfect attendence is in tatters. So, hurry up!"
"Hunny, we've already talked to Mel, she said you'll be a special case. It's not your fault you had to go to hospital... Well it is, but..." Mum rambles, Mel is the head. The fam. still can't believe that I risked my life in order to rugby tackle a gun man. Sorry for trying to help!
I lean against the soft leather chair in the back of the 'flash' car. I push my dark brown hair out of my big brown eyes.
"Shit in hell!" Dad yells, making my look up at the oaf himself, "Get out of the effin' road!" It's a mirical I have any manners to be honest.