Misfortunate Molly: MM, #1

By Tee Mee

In the first book of the MM series, Molly and her boyfriend, Curtis, are in a car accident that is fatal for him. The weeks following his death are filled with events that seem to be continuously stacking one traumatic event with the next. With little time to process her emotions, Molly is forced into the spotlight and becomes the object of reticule by the media. In her time of need she is betrayed multiple times, forced to confront her love for Curtis by an unexpected proposal of marriage, confronted by her absent mother, has to cope with her inner envy of all the love she sees growing around her while she is stagnent in her pain. Molly has to face the fact that her previously planned future has to be changed, she becomes plagued with nightmares, and all along, she feels this overwhelming guilt for 'causing' his death. Molly must find her way through the unfortunate events in order to become who she needs to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NoShameIn
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215874493

Book preview

Chapter 1 The Impact

My head is heavy. My neck like rubber. Arms like water and my feet with nothing solid under them. My fingertips are tingling, ears deafened by a ringing worse than nails on a chalkboard. My eyelids glued shut. Confusion... clarity evades me. I am dazed and disorientated. Am I outside of my body? Darkness succumbs me.

I slowly come to and everything is a blur. There is the slightest amount of light sneaking in past my eyelids. What is that smell? I feel bile rising in my throat. My eyes shoot open. I get sick from all my senses being overwhelmed at once. It hurts everywhere. I get sick again. Then a third time.

The sunset is extremely bright; brighter than if I was staring directly into the sun at mid-day. My head is pounding louder than any drum I have ever heard. I can count my heartbeats. I try to adjust the position I am in, but I am hopelessly stuck. I quickly assess what my brain is trying to comprehend. I see My Love across from me. His eyes dwindling with little of the life I know him to have. 

Love? I say with little more than a whisper. Love, can you hear me? Are you okay? He is still silent. Tell me you're okay. Answer me please. I plead. I try to reach him but he grows further away. I feel helpless. 

I try to focus on my surroundings. Blood. I can smell it. It is over powering. The rawness of it. I look around and see so much blood. Not my own. I do not think at least. I do not feel like I am bleeding. If I am not bleeding than it must be My Love's. He must be hurt. I begin to struggle to get to him but freedom from my seat escapes me. My exertion forces me to lose my senses and sends me back to darkness. 

The windshield is cracked into the most beautiful snowflake pattern. I can only hear humming and feel the thump of my pulse slamming into my temples. I can hardly move. I cannot get my seat-belt to unfasten. I am pinned between my seat and the steering wheel. Panic has struck. Tears. My eyes are on fire. Now I am yelling for help. Can no one hear me? I am yelling other things but my words are lost on me. My throat burns with every sound. I am so disoriented. What happened? I try to force myself to remember. I am getting dizzy. I know sleep is upon me.

I must think quickly. I flow through the events from tonight. Dinner... Drive... Deer? A deer. A damn deer. Then the sound followed by that smell.

I try to reach My Love again but I cannot get to him. I am trying so hard to touch him. My arms grow shorter with every attempt. My hands cannot find him. They refuse to make contact. The dizziness is turning into nausea. My breath quickens. My eyes begin to roll. The darkness claims my mind again.

Miss. Miss are you okay?

I open my eyes to see a lady in a uniform. How can such a loud noise, put me to sleep? How can such a jolt, keep me still? Why am I spinning while being absolutely free of movement?  

We are going to get you out of here. Everything is going to be okay. Can you hear me?

I nod slightly.

Okay. Now be still.

I'm assuming she is instructing me to stay still because I'm trying to sit up to see My Love. I notice it is now dark out.

Miss, please try and be as still as possible, she continues to plead with me.

I look over to My Love only to see an empty space where he should be. Panic returns, Is he okay? Where is My Love? Why isn't he answering me? Where is he? I don't see him. I seem to keep asking the same questions over and over. My breath is labored. 

My head is still pounding. Outside of her voice, I hear sirens and other people talking. I cannot make out any words but they sound so concerned, upset even. I hear metal. I get sick again, choking on what little is left from dinner. That sound is the last thing I heard before I woke-up stuck in my current position. The sound of metal crushing or scraping or breaking. I am not sure which it is, I just know it is an awful sound. 

Can someone please tell me what is going on? I scream as loud as my voice will allow.

Miss, let's just get you safely out of here first, okay? The woman says to me as the darkness begins to take over once more.

Flash memories run through my mind like random pictures: 

-My Love and I smiling at each other as I am driving down the road. His eyes go from love to panic without a blink of an eye.

-A deer, that dreadful noise and then darkness and quiet. My Love pinned between the dashboard and his seat. His window is gone and glass coats his shoulders. Blood on his cheek, flowing out of his nose and spewing out of his mouth when he coughed. 

-His eyes. My Love's eyes losing life in front of me. 

-Darkness. 

-The sun setting through the snow-flaked glass, followed by more darkness. 

-My Love handing the truck keys to me with so much excitement. I wanted to drive because I just received my license. I remember us racing to his truck; us laughing in the moment; the sound of our feet hitting the pavement. The smell of the new blooms. Joy and happiness. The sun so warm on my body.

-Blood. His smile fading into more blood. Now I can smell the iron, but it is not from the metal. 

-Screaming. A lot of screaming. 

-The kiss he gave me right as he handed me the keys. I can feel his lips upon mine. The smile on his face as we climb into the cab of his truck.

-Sirens. Noise that turns into nothing more than a hum. 

-The trees as I'm driving down the road. His hand resting on my thigh. The smile on my face as I stare in his direction. His touch. The calm around me morphing into chaos. 

-My Love's eyes.

My memories exhaust me and I pass out, again.

Beeping. The sound of steady beeping wakes me. Voices that I recognize but I cannot make out words. A pinch in my arm. A dry taste in my mouth and the smell of cleanliness that could turn anyone’s stomach. My pulse beating loudly and rhythmically, interrupting my thoughts. Nausea returns to me as I lift my head from the pillow. I have an itch on my cheek but my arm is heavy. So heavy that I drop my arm twice before actually fully lifting it off the bed. As I drag my finger across the itch, it feels like I am doing it in slow motion. Lagging with no amount of strength.

She's coming to. Get the doctor. I hear a voice that I am sure to be my father’s but the pulsating in my head is disrupting my coherence.

Molly, it's me, daddy. Can you hear me? Can you understand me? I can feel his hand on my arm.

Not sure if I nodded or if my neck is weak.

Oh baby, I'm so glad you are okay. We are so worried.

I slowly open my eyes towards his voice. It is so bright in here. It is hard for me to focus. The light blinds me.

Daddy, where is he? I continue to blink while focusing on my daddy's eyes as best as I can. I observe his eyes go from relief to sorrow and pain immediately. I sit up, faster than I should have and now I am feeling sick again. I wait a second before I move again but nothing comes up. Thank goodness because I absolutely loathe puking. Dad, what has happened? I begin to cry as I see the tears well in his gaze. Daddy please tell me what's going on.

He is looking through me now. As soon as he attempts to answer, the doctor steps in the room.

Hello dear, I'm Dr. McTimms. Can you tell me your name? She slowly picks up my hand, it looks like to inspect it.

I look away from my dad to the doctor and answer her, Molly.

She gives me a slight smirk. Good. Now can you tell me what day it is. Her voice steady, waiting for my reply.

Ummm, Friday? I think it is. At least it was last time I was awake.

It's Sunday morning now. Can you tell me what the last thing that you remember is? She looks afraid for me. Almost looks like pity stirred with worry.

Before I am able to speak, I notice others in the room. My Love's mom, whom I absolutely adore, a nurse, wearing a much too colorful scrub that my eyes cannot handle right now, and a police officer, I think it may be the same lady that woke me while I was still in the truck. The nurse walks to the side of my bed near the beeping machines, next to a small counter or tray or something, and begins tapping on the laptop that is placed there. My Love's mom has tears streaming down her face with huge purple bags under her eyes, and the officer gives me a slight smirk and nod. 

What have I done? Why is there an officer here? Why is she crying? Why does my dad seem anxious? My subconscious seems to be in working order.

A rush of painful memories race through my mind faster than a racing car. I cannot seem to focus on a single image. The collage of moments fogs my thoughts and seem to momentarily silence the thumping. I can no longer think. The memories flip from image to image so quickly and then come to an abrupt stop. I blink slower than I thought was possible. Pain is all I can process now. The thumping of my pulse comes back as I gain enough clarity to speak.

My Love's eyes.

No... Noooo... NO, NO, NO... I begin. No. It can't... I continue. My eyes filling with tears quickly. My heartbeat quickens. My throat becomes itchy. I look into my father’s pain-stricken eyes and my chest constricts... Daddy? My chest is now hot. VERY HOT. It burns. I get sick, again. UGH. I cannot stop the sobbing now that I have begun. Panic is setting in and gripping into me hard and strong. No daddy please, no. This... NO... I... He... Tell me. Tell me where My Love is. Tell me where he is... I want... My voice is shaky and uncertain. I then get a surge of adrenaline forcing me to slow the tears and speak more clearly, more firmly. I need to see him. NOW! I end my statement loud and demanding as I try and lift myself out of the bed. 

Whoa. Bad idea.

The nurse and the doctor quickly step in and tell me to stay in the bed and try to calm myself. And they are serious. Shit. The dizzy is coming back. The doctor speaks as soon as I begin to move, You have a really bad concussion. You have to take it easy. I know this is stressful but you must attempt to calm yourself. Now setting my hand down and attempting to control the impending Molly she has yet to be introduced to.

You gonna have the cop cuff me? I retort angrily and point to the cop ready for a fight. Why the fuck won't they just tell me? I know but I do not, I will not, believe it. NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

No, but I WILL have to restrain you with straps if you throw yourself out of this bed in hysterics. So please attempt to stay calm. Dr. McTimms says beyond matter-of-factly, in a very stern tone. Her gaze matches her words.

Dizziness slaps me like I just insulted it. Maybe I'm not as ready for a fight as I thought I was. As I back down, I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at the doctor for a moment. I turn my head toward my dad and then to My Love's mom. As tears continue to fall from her exhausted eyes, she slowly comes closer and touches my leg. I see the words in her eyes. I feel the words with her touch. I sense the words that are coming and as fast as I can, I cover my ears and begin to shake my head left to right, once again saying, NO! I shut my eyes as tight as they possibly can close. I would rather have the darkness and quiet back than to hear and feel what I know will absolutely put a permanent crack in my soul.

My Love is my light. He is my balance. He reels me in when I get carried away. He brings me back to a sober mind when my passion takes hold and begins to run rampant. He is my opposite. We have been together since freshman year of high school. He is my first everything. My first real boyfriend. My first relationship. My first love. My first and all. My only! We gave each other our virginity on our anniversary, just this past year. We grew in love. With him I thrive. My Love helped me find purpose.

It had been years before I allowed anyone near my heart after my mom up and left to pursue her dreams in some famous city, leaving me and my father behind. The selfish bitch. She had everything most women want. Or at least I thought what most women strive for. A loving and faithful husband, who was able to provide a very stable and wealthy lifestyle, and a little girl who resembled her in more ways than just her looks. She used to promise me we would move away one day and see the world. See all the great cities and different people. I was so young and excited to travel with my mommy. When she would tell me stories about places, I would stay up all night and let my imagination take hold until the sun would rise. But I guess I was taking too long to grow, so she left. Without me. Without my dad.

I grew harder and more guarded than most children my age. She took my hopeful spirit with her. My dad has always been my best friend and my hero. He has always been my daddy. The best in the world! To see him break the morning she took herself from our lives, broke something in me. To know she knew that she took with her more than just the suitcase she had with her, created a resentment in me that festered and grew every year that passed.

When I met My Love, he chipped away at that anger and pain, or at least he tried to, unknowingly. With his patience and love, with his consistency and caring nature, with his kind eyes and gentle touch, with everything that was him, he chipped away at the wall around my heart. Even when my passion to speak my truth would go too far, he would still be standing there allowing me to voice my opinion without judgement and argument. It was always a conversation with him. He never left me, not even on my worst days. Until...

Is he gone now? Has he finally left? What will I do without him? Where will I end up? Who will I love? Who will love me?

As I continue to try and ignore the impending confession, my dad's strong and gentle hand on my forearms attempts to remove my hands from my ears. I am brought out of my thoughts and the pain comes crashing in. Once I finally open my eyes, I notice the doctor and nurse are standing outside the room, taking turns looking into the window every few seconds. For sure to make sure I will not remove myself from this bed. The officer is now standing in the doorway with her back to us.

I lower my hands, my loving daddy speaks in such a low voice I can barely hear him over the thumping in my head, Baby, I am so sorry. His voice trembling and full of pain and heartache.

My Love's mom, Mrs. Garrett, enters my view. Molly, my dear... With her hand now lazily rubbing my leg in such a comforting way, she attempts to speak through her tears with a voice that is much raspier than I ever remember hearing; with a tone so low and full of sorrow. Not just sorrow but with a deep distress that can only stem from mourning the loss of someone you love and were not, for one second, prepared to let go of. Molly...he... I can tell she is forcing out unnatural words trying to form a statement. 

Mrs. Garrett inhales and slowly exhales trying to compose herself enough to speak a sentence, He didn't make it. And with that, the crack reaches deeper than the one my mom gifted me when she left. Becoming so wide and long, an ocean could not fill it. 

I lose whatever composure I was attempting to have. Us three begin sobbing, uncontrollably. Overwhelming pain. So many tears. I feel the snot and drool forming and sliding down my face but I do not care. I feel a soft cloth glide along my cheeks, mouth, and chin then down my neck a little. Daddy is always here for his baby. And for that I will always be grateful. After a moment or two, my dad leaves me and My Love's mom, politely asking the officer to step outside with him. They close the door behind them and he gives me a sad frown through the window. After quite a few minutes pass, the sobbing slowly retreats enough for her and I to breath. 

Silence fills the room with a roar. It surrounds us. I cannot stand the quiet right now. It has not even been a minute. The stillness will be accompanied by memories. I simply cannot right now. I just cannot. Before I have a chance to form words, I hear an unfamiliar voice that seems to be coming out of my mouth say, I am so sorry... the word ‘so’ being draw out longer than normal.

Molly dear... is all Mrs. Garrett can manage, as she continues to comfort me to best of her ability and as much as I will allow.

I continue, I didn't mean to kill him. Is that what I did? Did I really kill My Love? How is this possible? I would never, ever, ever, even think about hurting My Love, no less kill him. This cannot be. There is no way. This cannot be true. This cannot be my reality. We were just driving... And... I... I don't know what happened... The look in his eyes told me something was wrong. So happy then fear. So fast. The memory makes me break down again but through the pain I manage to continue, It came from nowhere... The deer, then the metal... And then darkness...

I can tell Mrs. Garrett wants to say something but she continues to stay silent.  I think she knows I need to get this out uninterrupted. Her red eyes searching mine.

I put my hands up to cover the shame in my eyes and attempt to muffle the sorrow and guilt in my voice. Using my hands as some sort of mask, as if they will help soften the words I speak, I keep going, I tried... I tried but the seat belt would not allow it... His eyes... I can't... When his eyes drained... All I could do is scream but no one came... I swear on everything I didn't mean to kill him. You HAVE to believe me! Now choking not only on my words but on the amount of saliva and tears and snot that have accumulated on my lips and in my mouth. Disgusting, I know but you cannot taste anything when you are in this type of pain. Agony is the only sense that exists.

I feel a clammy, shaking hand pull back on one of my wrists, removing my hand from the shame I was hiding. Molly, I don't feel for a second that you killed him. Not for a moment did I feel that you did that, no less on purpose. I DO NOT blame you at all. YOU DID NOT KILL MY SON! She says to me firmly. I can feel the emphasis of her words as she speaks her truth by her fingers tightening on my wrist. You listen to me Molly. You are NOT to blame for this. There is no way you would have known that a deer was going to come.

But if I- I begin to say but she cuts me off.

Molly there is no 'but' in this situation. She stares at me with a seriousness I have never seen in her eyes or have heard in her tone prior. I mean it Molly. You do not need to be carrying that type of weight on your shoulders. This is not your or anyone's fault. You hear me? She begins to wipe my face while my eyes focus on my lap. I attempt to match her gaze when she tilts my chin up so my eyes will meet hers. I attempt a smile to assure her I heard her but she knows me well enough. I'm serious Molly. There is no way you could have caused this or stopped it from happening.

This woman has been one of the closest beings that I have to a mother. How could I do this to her? Take away her only child. How am I supposed to live with this? She must have seen my thoughts going in this direction because she interrupts them, as she releases my chin.

I mean it Molly. This is not your fault. I can see in her eyes she does not blame me but I blame myself. I love you Molly and always will. I have watched you grow up in front of my eyes. You have been the daughter I didn't have the chance to have. You will always be welcome in my home. I love you and I need you to remember this every time you begin to be too hard on yourself. This is not your fault and I love you. I blink at her continuously through that last part. My own mother has never spoken to me with that much compassion and empathy and love in her voice.

And here come the water works all over again.

My judgement of time at this point is null but I would like to say after about an hour or so, I pass out with her and I in the room just breathing through the pain. A loss so great that not many more words can be or are spoken.

When I eventually wake back up, it’s dark. My dad is asleep, in a chair on the other side of the room, in a position I do not think I could pull off without cramping and I know he will regret in the morning. The TV is on with the volume on low and the closed caption on. It is just him and I now. The last thing I want to do is wake my daddy up. Even in his sleep he looks exhausted. The louder his snoring is, the more exhausted he is. I will just say that the train has left the station and is full of coal.

I sit up as quietly as I can manage, look and see where all the wires lead and into which machines. I gather all the tubes that go to the IV bag. I gather the back of my hospital gown and use the metal bar holding the IV bag as leverage to steady myself. I need to try make my way to the bathroom. I have to pee so bad. As my feet touch the floor, the dizzy begins to sneak back in but nowhere near the force it was earlier. I look for the thing that has the nurse call button or cord or something to get someone other than my dad's attention. I see that my dad has the remote that has the push call button on it, so I look for something else.

Oh! Found it!

There is a little red push button, that looks like an old-time nurses' hat on it in white, located on my bed next to where there are button controls that make my bed go up and down. I push it and I can hear a distant Bing that is out of my room. 

Not a moment later a nurse, a different nurse than earlier, pops into my room. Right as she is about to speak, I put my finger to my lips and look over at my dad snoring away. She receives my hint and begins to quietly and slowly walk over to me. As she is making her way to me, I point to the bathroom. 

I feel like it is taking forever to get to the bathroom. My legs feel like they are missing bones. I am wobbly and weak. Along with my baby steps, I can feel surges of pain shoot throughout my body. Everywhere. The pain is fast and disappears as crudely as it came. I feel a little woozy. I can feel the pain medication coursing in my veins. The taste that is in my mouth is strong and disgusting; absolutely awful. As we get to the bathroom, the nurse leaves me by the sink and allows me some privacy, informing me to yell if I need help.

In the bathroom I look in the mirror to get a look at this person that is me. My hair is knotted and in a mess of a ponytail that I pulled it into on Friday. I have a few little scratches on my cheek, forehead, and neck. It looks like there was some blood near the opening of my right ear. Not sure if the blood is from my ear or from a cut above. My cheeks look sunken in, my eyes very swollen, my lips fuller than they usually are with a little split on my bottom lip. 

I have a cut near my left eye and a large bruise and cut going across my chest diagonally. I look at my arms and hands and see some scattered bruising here and there. My left wrist has a bandage on it; similar to a white ace bandage. The ring My Love gave me is no longer on my right middle finger. My diamond earring studs, that were once my mother's, are now removed as well. My body though. My fucking goodness, my body hurts. Now I know what people mean when they say they feel like they have been hit by a freight train or a bus or perhaps both. I use the bathroom and wash my hands. I attempt to fix the rats nest that is now my hair but it hurts to lift my arms. I give-up and leave it be. I tighten my gown behind me as best as I can and head towards the door.

When I come out of the bathroom, the nurse helps me back to my bed. I noticed that my dad has changed his position but is still firing up the coal train. The sound puts a small smile in my heart. I ask the nurse for some juice and maybe a snack. As I wait, I look up at the television and see the program playing. Nothing I recognize or normally watch but it will have to do. When the nurse returns, all my vitals are checked. I quietly get asked a few questions and my answers are typed into the laptop. When the interrogation is complete, I put my hand out and imply with my eyes to hand over my goodies.

A cup of ice, two packs of saltines, some orange Jell-O or the imitation of, and some broth that just looks like dirty water. I receive a slight smirk and am told to enjoy with a great deal of sarcasm, which I appreciate and respond with my spoon held high mouthing, Bon' Appetit, with a disgusted look on my face. We both give a minuscule chuckle as my door closes behind her. I play eenie-meenie-miney-mo to decide what to start with and of course I land on the dirty water. I sip the broth, munch the crackers, chomp the ice, and sniff the not Jell-O. NOPE! I think not. Ironically the broth smelled more appetizing than the fake Jell-O. 

I push my tray aside. I look back over at my dad to make sure he is still asleep. There was a moment there when I was opening my crackers that I thought he was going to wake up; but he just tried to re-adjust his awkward sleeping position and continued down the train track. Once my festivities for the night are completed, I curl back under the covers to try and sleep away some of this stress.

Staring at the ray of light coming into my room from the moon, I watch as the light moves out of the frame of the window. The glass reflects my pain. I lift my head slightly to get a better look out of the window. The window reflects my pain. A figure begins to form. My eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink and when I open my eyes, I see My Love’s eyes.

My Love?

Chapter 2 Intimate Stranger

I squint his figure into frame. He smiles to me and begins to fade away. The shock forces me to blink him away. I cry out to him again and when I try to follow him to the window, my IV tugs at my arm reminding me where I am.

Wait. I reach out to a dark room. Am I hallucinating? I curl back into bed and sob myself back to sleep.

When I wake up Monday, it is around 7 am. The beeping persisted at a steady rate. There is someone scuffling around my room. When I look up to see whom, it is, yet again, a different nurse. What am I on number three now? As I go through the interrogation, I notice a tray has replaced my wrappers and goodies from last night, with what I assume to be breakfast. I look over for my daddy and he is not in the chair. Not only is he no longer in the chair but he is absent from my room all together. The bathroom door is open so I know he is not in there either. 

Sadness and disappointment slides into my nerves. All of a sudden feel like that little girl who needs reassurance and comfort from her daddy. The broken little girl sitting on the steps as her mom relieves herself from the weight of her family. I always thought that nothing could replace that feeling. Nothing could ever be as terrible as that pain of abandonment. But I was wrong. Very wrong. This inner open wound has replaced all the love and future endeavors that were planned so cautiously and neatly for me and My Love. This right here, it is a different type of pain and it hurts a multitude more. I would trade my mother leaving me once a day for the rest of my life, over having to feel this emptiness for another moment.

He went home to shower. The newest nurse states noticing me canvasing the room. As I look to her, I receive a sweet smile. I nod to the nurse. Try and eat a little something and then we will get you cleaned up. Maybe we can get you home today. How does that sound? I deliver a deadpan smile to acknowledge her and remove my stare from her eyes to the huge purple bruise that is on my right hand where the IV sits covered in tape. I trace the outline of the tape and then the bruise with my finger admiring the bright color under my skin. Beautiful color but trauma to the flesh had to occur for this shade to appear. I begin to slip into my thoughts dismissing the nurse from my presence.

Good, I think to myself. Wait. Is it good? Good to go home? I notice I am second guessing my every thought and feeling. This level of confusion and uncertainty is overwhelmingly tiring. Do I want to go home yet? Am I ready? I know as soon as I leave here, the realization is going to hit me like a ton of bricks.

Whose eyes will I look to find hope and love and understanding? Never to see him smile again. Hear his laugh. Smell his scent. Kiss his lips. Hold his hand. Another conversation will never be had between us. His arms will cease to wrap around me in any situation. No one to waste time and procrastinate with. My study buddy is not going to be there to help me. Who will I watch movies with now? I no longer have a dinner date. Who will bring me peace during my chaos? 

My future is over. My life plan is smashed into the smallest fractures of pieces. Nothing will be able to mold my life back into a whole functioning ... thing again. What am I supposed to do now? What am I going to do now? So many questions that I have no answers to. I do not know what I am supposed to do now. How will I survive without My Love?

My life will surely crumble when I leave here. I do not want to be reminded of what I lost, what I caused, what I got rid of. I want to stay empty and plain with only the essentials existing, much like this room. Plain, white, no pictures, no individuality, no reminders, nothing that says, 'Molly you were happy and you ruined it.' Nothing that reminds me of the love lost. I just want to be empty.

While stuck in my thoughts, I realize that I am now eating in a robotic way. Not tasting the food, not enjoying what always brings me joy. I am not even sure what it is that I am swallowing. I do not even think it is me feeding myself. I do not feel my arms and hands moving. I cannot feel a fork in my fingers. And now there is a straw in my mouth but I sense no cup in my hand. This is the weirdest thing. Am I dreaming?

Is that okay baby? I hear what seems to be my dad's voice but it sounds like I am under water. In a very slow movement, I look toward the voice and see my dad and he is standing over my bed with the cup that holds the straw I am drinking from. It is in his hand. As he removes the straw from my mouth, I try to come back to reality.

Where are my hands? Why is my dad feeding me? Wait. When did he even come in the room? When did he get back? I did not hear him come into the room. I finally feel my own touch. My hands are sitting in my lap. Not with fingers intertwined, just simply sitting there next to each other. I feel my legs and feet twisted together in crisscross-applesauce style. I look over to the clock on the wall and it is now 10:26 am. What? It was just 7 something. Where did the time go?

I realize I still have yet to shower as I see my favorite pajama set folded at the end of my hospital bed with my favorite slippers under them. Daddy knows his girl. I look to my dad and say 'thanks' as I go back to eyeing what he has brought for me. He smiles, sets the cup down and sits on the bed near me carefully pulling my hands into his. No words are spoken. 

His eyes tell me everything he wants me to know. As he tightens his grip around my swollen and sore hands, I remove them and wrap my arms around his neck and I crawl on to his lap. Holding me like I am once again his little angel, I begin to sob. I feel pains throughout my body due to my sudden movement but I ignore them all. While my tears flow out like a flood, my heartbeat races faster than horses at the Kentucky Derby; breathing becomes hard and I just let go. 

Daddy wraps his arms around me and begins to pet my head and rub my back. He is now crying himself. His emotions subside sooner than mine and for that I am grateful because it helps me calm down some. I wipe my tears away. He sweetly removes me from his laps and says, Let's get you cleaned up and home, shall we? I bounce my head like one of those ornaments stuck on a dashboard and take a long deep breath in that comes out like the world's longest sigh. I swear it takes me at least 3 minutes to get all the air out of my lungs. I notice much of the dizzy and my inner drumming master is now minimum to none, which is beyond relief.

We sit there for a moment before either of us decides to take action. I reach for the clothes my dad brought for me and it hurts to stretch like that. The nurse asks me if I need some help. I answer 'yes' and she gathers the clothing. I tell my dad I need to shower and he agrees. I look to my nurse and without asking, she helps me to the bathroom.

After I ask her if it is okay if she stays in here with me, she helps me get undressed. I do not quite trust my legs yet. They are still a little wobbly. She helps me take off my hospital gown and underwear. It takes her a moment to take out my hair tie because she is trying to be as gentle as possible. I would have just ripped it out, that is, if I could. 

Now that I am undressed, I can fully see the damage my body has suffered. There is much more bruising than I originally thought. There are spots everywhere and of all shades. The nurse helps hold me steady as I review myself in the bathroom mirror. The bruise I noticed last night that is across my chest is wide and long, reaching all the way across me. That has to be from the seat-belt. The cuts near it are nearly healed. I see spots of blood here and there but I am not seeing the source. Blood in random spots, all over the place, it does not make sense.

Come on honey, let's get you washed up. She guides me into the shower. She was sweet enough to turn on the water as I was looking at myself.

As I step into the shower, I can feel the warmth of the steam running along the parts of me that the water is not touching. The water feels amazing as it runs down my body. I step farther in to the stream allowing my hair to get wet. I ask the nurse for my favorite shampoo, along with my body wash and loofah from home. I squeeze more than the usual amount into my hand and go to put it in my hair but a sudden pain rips from my arm, to my neck, through my back, all simultaneously. I yelp out in pain. My hand drops to my side and I feel the shampoo slide out of my hand and onto the top of my foot. The nurse quickly pops her head into the shower and immediately apologizes due to the surprise on my face. 

It's okay. I assure her. Can you please help me with washing my hair? It really hurt to lift my arms. She nods and smiles reaching out for the shampoo. 

I squeeze the desired amount into her hand and she massages my scalp with much tenderness. I can feel some tender spots when her fingers massage over them. I accept the pain and stay as still as possible. As we rinse my hair, I notice pink running down my body and to the floor. Not a bright pink but a watered-down red pink. Red mixed with white suds pink. Watching the suds swirl into the drain, the realization of the color comes to me. It is his blood. It is My Love's blood. 

How did it end up on me? In my hair? And in random places. Stop. Wait. No. NO! I don't want him to go down the drain. No, I keep thinking to myself. I feel myself becoming frantic. I go to reach for the suds but my body stops me. I want to keep as much of him as I can. My breathing increases. As nasty and crazy as these thoughts feel, I need to keep him with me. I can feel my heart rate throughout all my veins. I do not care what it is. Or how. I know that these thoughts are nowhere near rational. I do not care; I need him to stay with me. I do NOT want to let go. I begin to hyperventilate. Watching the little bits of him that I still had go down the drain, breaks me further. This crack is becoming more damage than I can manage.

Let's calm down before you pass out. Relax your shoulders. She calmly instructs. Listen to my voice. Focus on my words. Breathe with me. She begins to breathe at a more regular, steady and normal pace. I follow suit without meaning to. Her voice is so calming. There we go. You are doing great. She gives me strength where none exists. I count nineteen breaths before she speaks again, Now let's condition your hair. She looks into my eyes like she is genuinely here for me. 

She collects the bottle and I let her take over. I do as she instructs all the way until it is time to step out of the shower and wrap my towel around me. She grabs a stool from the corner of the bathroom and sits me down on it. She grabs my brush and slowly begins to work out the knots. Better her than me. I sit here allowing her to care for me. 

The image of the pink suds going down the drain is on replay in my head. I cannot believe I just allowed him to go that way. This immense amount of guilt begins to pull me away to a dark angry place, when her voice retrieves me and brings me back. 

I'm sorry, what? I must have water in my ears the way her words were muffled.

You have such beautiful hair. She says as she continues to brush through the nest that has become my hair over the past few days.

Thanks. I simply say. That was My Love's blood going down the drain. she stiffens. I notice she has now stopped all movements with this statement. I am sure catching her off guard because she takes a few seconds to reply.

I know. She replies with pain in her tone. I am going to braid your hair. Is that okay? she asks and awaits my response.

Yes. That would be nice. I can feel her joy of a smile as I agree. 

I try not to think about how my mom used to do my hair when I was child and how much I miss a mother's touch and how much I need her right now. That is, if she never left me. I stop myself from going down that road. Not right now. Not today. I will not allow the pain that she caused and does not deserve to overpower the pain of My Love's definite departure. I feel the braid forming and finishing. I say, 'Thank you', as I feel her wrap the hair tie at the end of the braid.

I stay seated as she puts my clothes on me. Moving an arm here and picking a leg up there. I am as still as I can be. And as quiet as I think I have ever been in my entire life. She respects my lack of want of a conversation and I am glad for it. She is apologizing here and there when I whine or wince at the pain of movements. I tell her it is okay and I know she does not mean it but she still offers her condolences every time a moan or groan slips from my lips.

Okay. I think we are done here. She states as she slides my second slipper on my swollen foot. 

She goes to help me up but I am not ready yet. I dismiss her hand by simply not acknowledging it. She notices and sits down in front of me. Not saying anything or even attempting eye contact. No touching or sweet gestures. Simply sitting in this bathroom in stillness.

After a bit of time, I hear a knock at the door. Are you about done babygirl? I feel my anxiety at an all-time high. I look to the nurse for assistance.

We will be out in just a minute. She is doing great. She answers for me and offers a 'no worries' smile. Then we return to the stillness. With no actual noticeable movements. She waits patiently with me. This broken girl of only 17. If she only knew the pain. The crack. The one that is growing with every breath I take. If only anyone knew.

I'm not ready yet, I hear me say after what feels like hours. I do not want to walk out into a world where he no longer exists. The words come out more whisper than voice. I spoke them honestly, slowly letting each word of my truth sink into me. I can feel a single tear drop from my eye and as quickly as it falls, it is wiped away from my face with a gentle stroke of a finger from my new intimate stranger.

To feel a pain like this is consuming. The level of guilt I have is too much for one person. How am I supposed to cope with this? How do I ‘move on’ from here? I do not think I will be able to. To live in a world without him seems non-existent. This is not fair. I feel this anger build up inside of me. It is like a fire burning my insides trying to escape.

I sit up from my pitiful sitting position and release the burning by screaming. I take a breath and scream again. Nurse Pamela just rubs my back.

The banging on the door does not stop my outburst, but encourages it. The room feels chaotic, drowning out my pain.

Molly, please let me in, my father asks through the door. His light knocks stop after a few more tries.

My voice has given up on me. My screams turn to more sobbing. I hear my dad and someone are talking on the other side of the door. Nurse Pamela helps me to my feet.

Come on dear, she says quietly.

Chapter 3 Wish

Tuesday afternoon, me and my dad are driving through our small town and turn onto our street. It feels bittersweet; seeing all the houses that I have grown to know as my neighborhood. It makes me smile internally. With my head leaning against the SUV window, I take in each tree and each perfectly cut lawn in front of each perfect house, with perfect garages that sit at the end of the perfect blacktop driveways. I see people outside; kids playing in yards, some people gardening and trimming bushes. You know, just regular suburban life.

I remember who used to live in that one and who now lives over there. I remember the families that have come and gone over the years. Yet, we have lived in our house my entire life.

As we near the end of the street,