Sequel: No One Belongs Here More Than You ›
Status: This one is done. Check out the sequel-No One Belongs Here More Than You!
I Don't Want To Solve Your Problems, I Have My Own
Chapter One
I dashed down the street, blinded by my own tears, clutching my books, which I had wrapped in a plastic bag, to my chest as I ran. The weather wasn’t all that different than my mood; rain poured down in sheets, drenching me to the bones, and blinding me further. I bit back a whimper as a clap of thunder roared above, and it wasn’t until I heard the deafening screech of tires that I stopped for a moment to even think about what I was doing. Too late. I felt a horrible crunch, and the world faded to black.
Where am I? What is that annoying beeping sound? Ugh, why do I hurt? Questions raced through my mind as I struggled to open my eyes. The world spun around me, and after a few minutes I realized I was in the hospital. Suddenly, everything came flooding back; the failed tests, the meeting with the board stating that I might lose my scholarship, the rain. I ran into the street, huh? A few moments later a nurse came rushing into the room. I found myself being blinded with pen lights, jabbed with needles, and drifting off once more.
“Miss Pritchard?” I heard someone ask.
“Huh?” I asked. Nausea washed over me in waves, accompanied by immense pain.
“Do you know where you are Miss Pritchard?” The voice asked. It was becoming clearer, and so was my vision. I found myself looking at a doctor, with graying brown hair, and smiling deep blue eyes behind thick glasses.
“Not really,” I said. The man smiled and jotted something down on a clipboard.
“Suffering from a bit of amnesia, I see,” he said.
“No, no, I know what happened. I just don’t know where I am,” I frowned. The doctor raised his eyebrows.
“Well then, please do tell me what happened,” he said.
“I was upset…I just got out of a meeting with some of my financial sponsors…they told me that I was failing my math course, even though I’ve been putting in so many extra hours of work…I was upset, and I ran into the street,” I started. How could you be so stupid?
“And that’s it? You just ran into the street?” the doctor asked.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said.
“Well Miss Pritchard, with a history like yours, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised,” he sighed before walking out of the room. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I turned my head away from the doorway in shame. With a history like mine, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised either.
Where am I? What is that annoying beeping sound? Ugh, why do I hurt? Questions raced through my mind as I struggled to open my eyes. The world spun around me, and after a few minutes I realized I was in the hospital. Suddenly, everything came flooding back; the failed tests, the meeting with the board stating that I might lose my scholarship, the rain. I ran into the street, huh? A few moments later a nurse came rushing into the room. I found myself being blinded with pen lights, jabbed with needles, and drifting off once more.
“Miss Pritchard?” I heard someone ask.
“Huh?” I asked. Nausea washed over me in waves, accompanied by immense pain.
“Do you know where you are Miss Pritchard?” The voice asked. It was becoming clearer, and so was my vision. I found myself looking at a doctor, with graying brown hair, and smiling deep blue eyes behind thick glasses.
“Not really,” I said. The man smiled and jotted something down on a clipboard.
“Suffering from a bit of amnesia, I see,” he said.
“No, no, I know what happened. I just don’t know where I am,” I frowned. The doctor raised his eyebrows.
“Well then, please do tell me what happened,” he said.
“I was upset…I just got out of a meeting with some of my financial sponsors…they told me that I was failing my math course, even though I’ve been putting in so many extra hours of work…I was upset, and I ran into the street,” I started. How could you be so stupid?
“And that’s it? You just ran into the street?” the doctor asked.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said.
“Well Miss Pritchard, with a history like yours, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised,” he sighed before walking out of the room. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I turned my head away from the doorway in shame. With a history like mine, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised either.
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A short first, but this is just the beginning!