7 Minutes ✔

17: Minute Six

I wanted to tell everyone the truth and accept the consequences of my actions. Angeline's mom didn't deserve to think of her daughter as someone who crashed a car and killed another. No one deserved it other than me.

I was so lost in my thoughts, I couldn't even feel the nurse sitting me down in a wheelchair and rolling me back to my room. My eyes were so blurry thanks to tears that wanted to fall but just couldn't.

My mind was replaying the car accident over and over again like it was on a constant loop. I kept looking at her beautiful brown skin and the smile that swore to always be there for me. I kept trying to come up with every possible scenario that could've happened without the loss of someone's life. The only thing I could think of was never getting in that car, and never drinking so much.

I met Angeline in kindergarten when a boy cut off a piece of my hair and I cried so hard to the point Angeline noticed. She walked over to the guy and punched him. I remember her getting in so much trouble, but that moment was something I remembered forever. Ever since then, we had been inseparable.

There was a time in middle school when I was scared of trying out for the cheerleading team, so Angeline tried out with me. When I fell off the pyramid of girls who lifted me in the air, she ruthlessly pushed one of the girls who were at the top of the pyramid as well to keep me from feeling embarrassed.

Even when Quinn snaked her way into my life, and robbed me of my every dream. Angeline told me I shouldn't trust so easily, but I did, proving just how much Angeline was always right about the people around me.

Not to mention how I was so terrified of a boy who was on top of me and wouldn't get off. He was taking advantage of the one thing I thought I had absolute control over... my body. He was going to assault me, and before he could get the chance, Angeline stormed into the room and demanded that he leave.

Then, in the car when I was supposed to be the one that got the most hurt, Angeline did what she always did and she protected me. She threw herself into the line of fire just so I wouldn't have to know what it was like to be grazed by a bullet.

Angeline was always there for every competition and truly wanted the best for me. She never saw our friendship as competition. She would never hurt me in the way that I hurt her. I never even got the chance to tell her I was sorry and that I thank her for everything she had done for me. My last words to the person that took their life to save mine were hateful and cruel. I would never get the chance to protect her in the way she had always protected me.

I didn't deserve Angeline.

The fact that I would never see her brown eyes peering back into my own anymore, and I would never see her soft hair glistening in the sunlight was all my fault. I wouldn't get to hear her laugh and the way she made jokes that weren't even funny, but her contagious laugh would make them the most hilarious things. I blamed myself for never getting the chance to see her become one of the most famous artists in the world. It was my fault why I got to live and the person who most deserved to see the sunrise on a beautiful morning was the one who died.

If I hadn't gotten drunk...If I hadn't ditched Angeline and became friends with Quinn... If I hadn't got in that damn car when Angeline begged me not to... If I hadn't been the worst person on the planet, things would be different.

To make matters worse, I lied to the police who were probably telling everyone that the villain was Angeline.

I deserved to die.

The nurses placed me down in my bed. They bandaged my arm while talking to me about the importance of not getting out of bed. Their words went through one ear and came out of the other.

Once they finished, my mother walked into the room, but she didn't say a single word to me. My father was nowhere to be found, and I was sure he was off working or something like he always did no matter the situation his family was going through.

"You have been staring off into space," mom said. I glanced over at her, noticing how she couldn't even look at me. Her eyes remained on the blanket that rested over me.

"Mom," I called. Her gaze shifted over to the pillow.

"Mom, look at me!"

Her jaw clenched as she finally looked into my eyes. Her gaze was stone-cold almost as if she were looking into the eyes of a stranger rather than her own daughter.

"What happened to the innocent little girl that I used to have?" she asked. My mom choked back a sob before shaking her head back and forth.

She was vague of all the love she swore she had for me, her daughter, her blood. I was looking into her eyes and saw the reflection of myself. I couldn't even recognize who I was anymore. The person I saw was a manipulative thief, liar, and a murderer.

"You killed your best friend and lied about it. You are just like your father! All Angeline ever wanted to do was be your friend, you know that? How could you?" My mom seethed through her tears.

"I hate you! I hate you, and I hate dad! I hate everyone! I hate my life! I hate that I was ever even born! Mom, I hate how much everyone hates me!" I sobbed.

"You don't even know what hate is. When you get older, you'll see what hate truly is. I have done everything to be a great mother for you, and this is how you behave? Are you looking for attention or something Madison? Is that why you went out and got drunk and then drove your car in the rain? You are just pitiful and so stupid!" Mom shouted.

"I am," I whispered. "I got it from my parents."

"I have never been so ashamed to be your mother until today," my mom declared.

She wasn't the only person ashamed of me. I was ashamed of myself.

My mother had always fought for me when my dad pretended I wasn't there. Even in their every argument, she always said that she never regretted having me as her daughter. It was the only reason why I admired and respected her so much. Unlike dad, she loved me despite my flaws, but not anymore.

"I should have died. All of this would have been better if I was dead," I said.

My mom rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go check up on Angeline's mother."

I watched her storm out of the room and slam the door shut. When my mom left, I noticed my phone was resting on the small table beside me. Hurriedly, I picked it up and felt my stomach drop at the sight of so many notifications.

There were many messages from Ashton and Quinn. I completely ignored them and clicked on my social media to see all kinds of people were tagging me in a post where Lucas talked about sleeping with me for a few dollars. My brows pulled together as I read through the messages of everyone calling me a slut, claiming they felt so bad for Ashton, and they were saying things like I deserved to die.

I held back my tears as I looked through all of the messages and hurtful things people were saying about me.

I shut off my phone and placed it back on the nightstand. All I could do was stare up at the ceiling, telling myself that I was worthless, pitiful, stupid, a liar, a slut, and a murderer who deserved everything painful that ever came my way. I deserved to die.