Finally Home

99. Samantha

Going back to school wound up not being as bad as I was expecting. Especially after Morgan did what he did. I thanked him later. He blushed and said he wouldn't let anyone hurt his friends over something so dumb.

The rest of the week went by like a relatively normal week. I helped at basketball practice on Tuesday until Mom came to get me for physio.

At physio, they had me up on my crutches again but I couldn't maintain my balance. I was getting better, so they said, but it was frustrating because I'd rather be able to use crutches at school.

Eric kept talking to me about prosthetic legs and what he thought I should consider. My stump was still healing, so it was still goi g to be a while but he talked to Mom and I about them and gave us some brochures and other information.

"They have all types that will fit into your lifestyle, Sam," he said. "You're going to be shocked."

"I doubt that," I said. I'd still prefer my own leg thank you very much.

At home, Mom and Dad and I talked about the options I had. They'd already taken a cast of my stump, though the prosthetist thought he might have to do another one.

Mom and Dad thought a more bionic leg might be better for me because it would be more 'natural'. Natural my... butt. It's a fake leg. No matter how fancy it is. It's a fake freaking leg.

I didn't feel much better about it when we looked at the ones we'd narrowed it down to. But if it meant I didn't need to move around the house in a freaking wheelchair all the time, that would be nice. I'd probably need my crutches for a while, but hopefully, at the very least, I'd have better balance. I hoped.

I went to bed that night feeling irritated. I chalked it up to being annoyed by the whole not having a leg thing.

"Sam, you alright?" Dad asked as I rolled over to the stairs.

"I'm fine," I said. He frowned.

"Need help getting upstairs? Rather, would you like some help?"

"No thanks. I'll scoot my crippled ass up the stairs like I usually do," I snarked.  I was really feeling irritable.

I got upstairs and bum-scooted into my room. I used my bed to get up and grabbed my crutches that were beside my bed.

As I was about to get going into my bathroom, Dad knocked on my door and opened it without waiting.

"Nice!" I snarked at him. "Good thing I wasn't changing."

"I was practically right behind you on the stairs. You wouldn't have had time. I wouldn't walk in if I knew you were changing. But I'm checking on you because you seem... off. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm great. I am just peachy. Fantastic, fabulous."

"What's wrong?" He asked. He was scrutinizing me.

"Nothing," I said. 

"What?"

"No-," everything went grey. Then black.

It was dark. Quiet. Relaxing, actually. There were no sounds, no one talking to or at me. There was no light to keep me awake. I was warm, I felt safe. I didn't even feel lonely. It was like being in a sensory deprivation tank. I was just sort of ... floating here.

Every now and then I'd see colours or hear something in the distance. Sounds, but I couldn't quite make them out.

"Samantha," I heard. I looked around. There was no one around. No light, nothing. But someone had called my name. "Come on, Samantha.  Come on sweetheart."