Waking Up


I feel empty. Unreal. My body, I can't move it. It's completely numb. But I'm still thinking. I'm breathing.

What's going on? Am I dead? No. I don't think I am, because if I were, then I wouldn't be having this ridiculous mind babble now would I? I tried opening my eyes, but without success, it's too hard. What happened? I forget everything except that we were going to for an all day field trip. How long have I've been out? Am I sleeping on the bus, whilst everyone snickers at me, taking photos for the amusement of my blushing face?!

Suddenly I hear voices. Familiar voices of my parents. They're talking in frantic tones, “Is she all right? Will she be okay? What's her injuries?” is all I catch from their interrogation.

“Please calm down Mrs. Rain. Schuler has minor injuries and is just unconscious. She'll be up in about a day or two.” Says a calm, rough voice.

I hear a hesitation before my mother speaks. “B-but what about that cut on her neck?” she sounds like a frightened child instead of the supposedly grown up women I know and love. Silence before I hear the man say, “This? Just I scratch, no harm done.” he's touching my neck, tracing the surprisingly long scar. It starts right above my ear and all the way down to my right shoulder. I suddenly shudder from his cool touch, and a gasp fills the room.

“Schuler! Oh my goodness! Don't worry honey, I'm here, mommy's here.” My mother coos to me. I mentally roll my eyes at her. I'm in ninth grade mom! I think you can stop calling your self my “mommy!” and change it to something more original like, I don't know, “MOM”!

“Hey shy, you there?” My dad mumbles to me. I really want to open my eyes now, or at least say something. Dad's here! He will have some answers for me. He always does. Miraculously, I manged to make my eyes flutter. I get a quick glimpse of my dad staring down at me. He hasn't change. He stills the same funny, adoring father I've had since I was a baby.

I hear my mother's sobbing and someones soothing while someone grabs my hand. “Schuler. Can you squeeze my hand?” says a unrecognizable voice. With all my strength, I squeeze her hand the hardest I could.

“Yes Doctor Colemeen. She is indeed awake. Actually, waking up is a better term.” I can determine where the smile is put in in that sentence.


The End

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