Ashley

I couldn't feel my right arm. But I heard voices. A woman and a man. I blinked my eyes open. I was in some room. My arm had a cast on it. There was a tall, blonde woman, talking to a doctor.

"He was passed out on my lawn! Would you have thought to check for an ID of some sort?" the woman argued with the doctor.

"Well, probably not, but it would help to have a name of-" the doctor stammered.

"Well sorry. Oh! He's up," she added, pointing to me.

I stared at them.

"Hello..."

"Hi. Where am I?" I asked groggily.

"Clark County Hospital. I'm Dr. Hirsch."

I frowned and looked at my arm. "How'd I-"

"I drove you," the woman interrupted.

I gaped at her.

She blushed. She looked young, around 25. "I'm Liz Barlow. I live a couple houses down...you were passed out on my lawn moaning..."

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome."

"Now..." Dr. Hirsch said, struggling for my name.

"Ronnie. Ronnie Radke," I introduced.

Liz's eyes got wide.

"Ronnie. How did this happen?" he pointed to my arm.

"I...fell down a flight of stairs," I said, thinking quickly.

"But you were passed out and you were bleed-"

"Big flight of stairs."

Dr. Hirsch nodded. Then he wrote something down, and left the room.

"Thanks again, Liz," I said.

"You're Peter Radke's son!"

I looked stunned at first, then nodded.

"You didn't "fall down a flight of stairs"." She paused for a moment, thinking. She gasped. "Was it...was it Peter?"

I shook my head. "Not this time. It was Michael. My brother," I added for clarification.

She winced. "How did he do this to you? Your arm...it was so...crooked. Looked like it had snapped in half," I cringed.

"He's strong. Really-"

"Sh!" Liz quieted me as Dr. Hirsch walked back in the room.

He thrust a couple bottles of pills at me. "These," he tapped the first, "take twice a day. One in the morning, one at night. These," the second, "once a day. And these," the last one, "as needed."

I glanced at the labels, then nodded.

"Call me if you have any problems. Also, that cast can come off in about 8 weeks."

"8 weeks?" My eyes got wide.

He nodded. "Nasty break. Hard to believe falling down a flight of-" he furrowed his brow.

"Uh, right, right. Thanks. Dr. H. Can I go now?"

"Not quite yet. I need to file a couple of things, then you'll be free to go."

I sighed and fell back against the bed I was in. All of a sudden, the door opened. Max Green walked in.

"Hey, man. I heard you were here. I, uh, I wanted to come see you," he said.

I smiled. "Thanks. How's Ashley?"

Max looked at the floor.

"Who's Ashley?" Liz asked.

Max looked at me.

"This girl..."

Max looked back at the floor.

"This amazing, beautiful girl. I...I got her pregnant," I whispered the last part.

"What? How old is she? ...How old are you?"

"She's 16, today. I'm 17," I mumbled.

"You remembered her birthday?" Max asked, looking at the floor still.

I nodded. "Yeah."

There was all of a sudden shouting in the hallway. "THERE'S GOT TO BE A WAY! PLEASE!" a man's voice begged.

"I'm sorry, sir," another voice said.

Max frowned and looked at the door. He opened it wide. "Dad?" he asked.

I stood up.

"Max? MAX. MAX, PLEASE! PLEASE HELP!" Mr. Green sobbed.

I walked over, standing a foot behind Max.

"Dad? DAD! What are you talking about?" Max asked.

"MAX. ASHLEY....SHE...SHE," Mr. Green struggled.

"She shot herself in the head," the doctor behind him shook his head. "She's dead, sir. Dead."

I stared in disbelief. I stood next to Max. "What?! NO!"

"DAD! What? This can't be true!"

"SHE DID. I SAW HER DO IT!" Mr. Green said, as Max pulled him into a hug. He sobbed into Max's shoulder as Max wept silently.

"You sure?" Max asked shakily, looking at the doctor.

He shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and walked off.

"NO!" I shouted, starting to sob myself. I stumbled back in the room. I fell onto the floor. "No," I repeated quietly.