Chapter 2

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I gained and regained conscious in inconvenient intervals. When I woke up, I lasted about five seconds until I was out again; any longer than that and the pain would shut me down. Each time, I was careful and observant of my surroundings.

The first time, I was still in the car, dented in from the front side. There was a flame at the front of the car that would likely spread to me if they weren't quick. My arm was caught, bent unnaturally between the seat and the dented car door. I couldn't feel my legs or move any part of my body.

Meanwhile, I got a glimpse in those five seconds at Patrick, pacing back and forth. The police, ambulance, and fire trucks had just made it to the scene. He didn't cry, but he was sure close to it.

My visioned blurred over and my head was pushed back to the headrest.

When I woke up a second time, I was being torn from my car. They were trying hard not to break any of my limbs, but the only one they'd successfully freed was an arm. I wouldn't budge.

They pulled another tug and sent a jolt of pain up my whole body from head to toe. I shouted out in pain, biting down on my bloody lip.

Just before my light went out again, I heard Patrick's voice, "Just get her out of there! Goddamnit!"

Thankfully, the next time I came to was out of the burning car. The cool wind on my skin stung like bees. A stretcher raced me into the ambulance.

Patrick had watched me the whole time, up until the doors closed behind him. He started walking, then jogging, then began to chase after the ambulance. His shouts were unheard and only his lips moved in the form of shouts. He eventually gave up and slowed to a stop. I could've swore there were tears from his eyes and his thin figure trembled.

Time away from my conscious and Patrick Stump gave me time to think. He was my number one idol. There was nothing I could say negatively about him. He was my biggest crush and probably my favorite person to walk this planet.

Then things changed. He hit me with his car. He was careless. He's probably killed me, and if not, I might not ever walk, see, hear ever again. Patrick Stump has paralyzed me, and not in the way he used to.

***

I fell deeper and deeper into a sleep and let myself go completely. This was my plan, wasn't it? I'd planned on not coming back. Why was I so upset then?

I woke up unscathed on a little white bed. I wore a little white dress, completely unlike me to wear. The room was small, only big enough to fit the bed and little walking room.

There came a light knock on the door and a guy walked in. He smiled and approached me with a, "Hey Em..."

I back peddled until there was no space and my back hit the wall. He kept walking towards me, his smile fading as he didn't see mine.

"But, you're-! You're dead!" I say.

The smile he wore started to turn into a frown, "You see, that's the problem..."

I looked away from him, down at the ground. Meanwhile, he put his arms around me and held me close to him. I was a sucker for hugs, especially from people who cared about me; so I let him do it. I felt hot tears drip from my eyes to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Em. I'm really... so sorry," he rubbed my back.

"The paper..." I said between sobs, "The paper you left was blank..."

He pulled back and shook his head, smirking the tiniest bit, "It wasn't empty, Emerald."

I felt a sharp pain in my chest and a spot of red blood grew from it. His eyes widened and he growled, "They lied..."

I clutched my chest and choked, "Who lied?"

He lead me over to the bed which I woke up on and helped me lie back down. His worried face hung over mine, "Promise me you won't try that again..."

I hesitated. My eyes started to feel their familiar heaviness.

"Promise you won't!" he shook my shoulders and repeated more intensely.

I nodded, saying, "I promise" one more time before I was pulled back into darkness.

I never saw Nathan again.

***

It must've been a long time since I'd last been awake, because I was lying in a white room, staring up at the white ceiling tiles. The lights were off around the room and the windows were covered with shades.

The room was much bigger than it was with Nathan. They both felt equally real, but somehow, I had to believe that this awful world was the real one.

There were cords, tubes, and machines hooked up all over my body, far too many to count. An arm and a leg on opposite sides were wrapped in vanilla colored, plastered casts. That can only mean that they had to break one of my legs to get me out.

A softer bandage was wrapped around my stomach and up my chest, where the spot was before. With all the drugs and machines pumping life into me, I assumed I was in awful condition.

I strained my head to turn and get a better view of my surroundings. There were benches along the walls and a couch pushed into a corner. The man who was sitting on it was the man I now despised. Patrick Martin Stump.

He noticed I was awake and pulled his finger up to his lips. I gave him a confused look and he tip-toed his way towards me.

"Don't worry," he whispered as quiet as he could, "You'll be okay."

~ Jenna

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