Not About Angels ➳ A TBNRFrags/PrestonPlayz Fanfiction

The Truth ➳ Chapter 2

Preston's POV

The sound of the hospital door opening awakens me from me dreamless slumber. In walks a doctor, with a long white coat, teal scrubs, and her long blonde hair tied into a ponytail. A paper-like mask hangs down below her chin, as if she just game out of a germ infested room. She comes and sits in the chair, aware that I am awake.

"Hey-o! I'm Dr. Diadem, but you can just call me Jordan." She enthusiastically whispers with a smile. I manage to sit up, unlike yesterday; I don't feel as sore today, even though I didn't even realize I was sore yesterday.

"Hi... Jordan." I reply, matching her grin.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess..." I respond. Her smile widens and she makes a note on her clipboard she's carrying.

"What's your name, son?"

I hesitate for a moment. What do I say? "...Preston Arsement." I slowly mumble, and she writes on her clipboard. For some reason, I feel like I said the wrong thing.

"Well... Preston," She almost emphasizes my name as her pen is still moving on her paper, "Do you remember anything that happened in the past three weeks?" Her eyes study me, but my eyes wander the room. It's bright in here now, unlike last night, and there is visible shuffling outside my hospital room. A change from yesterday's eeriness. The clock above the door reads 1:42 pm. I slept for over 12 hours.

"I..."-great start, Preston-"...Yes?" I say it as a question. I know it is clearly January 10th, and as far as I know, I was consciously in Texas within the last three weeks. But... she doesn't know that. Nobody does.

"Are you sure?" She chuckles, picking up on the tone of my voice. I nod.

"I talked to Jenny earlier. Can you tell me what you told her last night, Preston?" She questions.

"I told her... who I am. That's pretty much it." She nods in response. She stays silent, urging me to continue.

"I... told her I'm not her nephew." I whisper. The doctor frowns slightly.

"Well, that's a problem." She murmurs to herself. "I have to go speak with the others-" She is about to leave when I stop her.

"Wait, I can prove it to you!" I exclaim, attempting to hold my hand out, but is blocked by the cords dangling from it and prevents me from my intentions. She stops and turns around.

"Um... okay." She says, coming back into the room.

Now where do I start? "Yesterday at, like, 11 at night, I was going home with my girlfriend, Sara, after a movie. We were driving and-and we went through an intersection-" My mind almost shut down from the loss. "a-and the last thing I remember was getting hit by a car on my side. I was driving." I look at the doctor and she has a blank expression on her face; unreadable. Is she confused? Sorry? What?

"And then I woke up here. Alberta I think?" I shrug my shoulders. "And people are calling me Daniel b-but I'm not."

Jordan looks down. "Do you have a computer?" I ask her, and her eyes snap back up to mine.

"Er, yeah." She says, grabbing a compact laptop from behind a curtain. She hands it to me and I open it, relieved that there is no pass code on it. The desktop has many folders piled onto the background, and there were documents with names like 'Diadem report December' and 'Jordan Make a Wish kids'. This must be her computer.

I access the browser and search 'Houston Car accident'. Sure enough, there was a new article posted very early this morning.

'Houston Car accident kills three passengers.'

I wince at the title and click on it.

The first thing I notice was the photo attached. It was taken late at night, and the scene. All I could see was police tapes, cop cars, and two almost completely obliterated cars in the middle of the road. My heart squeezes.

Not bearing to read it, I hand the device to Dr. Diadem, who slowly and hesitantly accepts it.

"Read it, please." I murmur.

She sighs and reads off the article.

"After leaving a Houston, Texas movie theater late at night on January 9th to supposedly go back home, an unexpected truck struck a red Prius car through a red light, killing two passengers."

Jordan must've heard whatever noise I just made because she pauses for a moment before continuing."Texas officials say that a black truck was driving 25m over the speed limit, travelling west, swerving in and out of the median. The officials say that the driver of the truck appeared to be intoxicated. At approximately 11:21pm, the truck ran a red light and struck the passing Prius on the driver's side, making both cars flip. The driver of the red Prius, Preston Arsement, 20, and the passenger, Sara _____ (A/N I don't know Sara's last name. Sorry!) were pronounced killed almost instantaneously. The driver of the truck was driven to the hospital in critical condition, but later passed away."

I'm crying.

I'm actually crying.

Not over the loss of my life, but over the loss of Sara.

The doctor looks up at me, her expression filled with sorrow and sympathy as well. She clearly believes me; Daniel was in a coma for three weeks. But I have to... ask.

"Do you believe me now?" I say through my tears. I blink rapidly, banishing the urge to cry. But I couldn't. It was an unbearable pain.

Sara and I were killed by a drunk driver. Why don't people understand the dangers of that task? It makes me want to... want to...

She sniffles, and a single tears rolls down her cheek as she nods.

I let out the breath I've been holding.

-

Continue in Chapter 3...