**This is a revised addition of Tristan and Anna. There are three parts to this chapter. It's rated PG. Please critique as you feel necessary. Enjoy!**
Chapter One
It must have been a dream, I thought. Nothing could happen to her. She’s fine. But as my eyes unfogged themselves from their slumber, I realized I was in a cold, white room. I lifted my head up from the armchair’s side and saw that it wasn’t a dream. My Mom truly had been in a car crash. Her face was bruised and swollen. Tubes and needles were poked inside of her from every angle. Although the steady rising of her chest showed she was breathing, there were no signs of her waking up. This sudden realization hit me with a crushing force. I fell to my knees, hitting the concrete floor with a stinging pain as my hands flew down to catch myself. Tears streamed down my face, unable to stop. My whole body was burning, as though someone was throwing bleach all over me. I can’t take the thought of not having my mom. No, she will wake up.
“Mom. Wake up.” I pleaded. “W-wake u-up!”
But no matter what I said, she still laid silent, oblivious to my pleads. How could this happen? To her? To me? My mom had to wake up. There was no way I could possibly live without my best friend. My only friend. My knees shook as I tried to push myself up beside her. At the sight of her ashen face, my heart began to pound as though someone was squeezing the life out of me. I jumped when I heard the clasping of the hospital room door.
“Are you alright, sweetie?” a nurse asked, grabbing my arm to support me.
“N-no! My Mom is in a coma.” I wanted someone to help her. Cure her.
“All her vitals are good.” she tried to reassure me, but her face was creased with worry.
“When will she wake up?”
“It’s really unsure. Sorry, honey.”
“Does she have any other injuries?”
“She has a broken collar bone, and a fractured shin.” she whispered, getting a needle ready for another round of injections.
“Is there anything I can get you? Do you have someone here with you?”
“No thanks-s. I do, but I don’t know where he is.”
“Well, if your under the age of eighteen, you can’t stay here with no supervision.”
“Okay.” I said indignantly, and turned away from her grip.
“It’s just that we can’t have you here when your so young still.”
“I know. My Uncle brought me here. He’ll be back.”
“Okay.” she said, and left the room.
I gently slid my mom’s fading blond hair out of her closed eyes. I gazed into her injured, tired face, imagining her ocean colored eyes and her full lips opening to laugh, uncovering each laugh line. Tears were steadily falling down, dripping onto the white hospital blanket. “I love you.” I whispered, and kissed her cheek.
I sat there on the side of her bed for what seemed like hours. I ran the memory of last nights tragedy over and over again through my head. . .
