Present

"Dr. Meyers, is she going to be okay?"

"Will she ever be able to breathe on her own?"

I can hear my parents' voices. I can't see them, but I can hear them. I don't know where I am, but I feel nothing. I don't even feel my body.

"She's going to need a couple more operations. We don't have the lesion in the lung completely patched up." I could hear my mother gasp. "She's doing fine on the oxygen machine now--breathing easily. When we get the break in the lung sewn back together, we'll see if she'll be able to function normally without the machine."

"What else?" I recognized that as my dad's voice. They sounded tense. Much more tense than I was actually feeling. I felt fine, just floating around in this nothingness I was currently experiencing.

"Well as you can see, we were able to get her face pretty much back to normal. Her nose had become unconsructed all the way to her forehead, so we sewed that on. There's obviously some scarring that will probably never go away."

"What about cosmetic surgery?"

"I don't think it would help much, if I'm honest. The scars are visible, but there are so many risks with cosmetic surgery, especially witht the face, and I'm not sure it's worth it to try and cover up the scars."

Scars? What scars? I wish I could actually see my body right now.

"We want to get the surgery in as soon as possible, since she has still not regained consciousness. We have a pulmonologist flying in from Dallas to perform the operation. The broken rib that punctured it should heal fine on its own, as long as it doesn't swell up too much from all the pressure of the lung."

Both of my parents let out sighs as the doctor spoke.

"And, how long do you think it will take her to fully recover?"

"She'll most likely be in the hopsital for a couple weeks. We just wouldn't want to rush anything, as I'm sure you understand. You all are very lucky. I've seen lots of incidents like this that don't end as well as this is."

My mother let out a sob, and I can imagine her leaning against my dad's shoulder. Even through and after their divorce they've never stopped comforting each other.

"Thank you, Dr. Meyer." My dad said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Evans. We'll let you know the details of surgery as soon as we know them."

"Thank you." My dad said, and my mom continued to sob.

I could hear footsteps and figured the doctor had walked out of the room.

"She'll be okay, Linda. She'going to be okay." My dad said, his tone wavering, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. And I could just hear my mom continue to cry.

"Why did it have to be her?" She gasped. I could amost hear the emotion in her voice.

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people." Was all my dad said.

And then I suddenly wanted to know exactly what happened. Where am I, and why can I hear them talking, but can't see them? Why don't I feel any pain? And why am I not upset? I just heard the doctor talking about how I may never be able to breathe on my own again. And he said my face was all scarred up.

All these questions were swarming my head, when I noticed it was quiet around me again. It was a peaceful quiet, but also sent a chill down my spine. I suddenly felt all alone. All alone in this darkness, with the comfort of my parents' voices taken away from me.

Just as I thought I was starting to go insane, I felt a sharp pain in my hand. And then the darkness was gone.

* * * * * * *

"Paisley. Open your eyes." I opened my eyes in confusion, obeying the strange voice that was speaking to me as if they've known me forever. I looked up, my eyes drifting from one unfamiliar person to the next.

They all had scrubs on. There was three or four of them, all standing around me, with strange medical instruments in their hands. I heard a beeping coming from beside me, and noticed the all the wires that were attached to various parts of my body. I was afraid to move in fear of messing up these tubes that were most likely keeping me alive.

"How are you feeling?" One of the male doctors asked beside me, still reading machines.

I opened my mouth the speak. How am I feeling?

I was so focused on figuring out where I was, I didn't even notice the pain coursing all through my body, my shallowness of breath.

"I-I." I squeaked out, and the doctor nodded to me encouragingly. "It hurts." I said, setting my head back against the pillow.

"What hurts, Paisley?" One of the nurses asked.

"M-my chest. And my face, it...it feels like it's throbbing. And I feel like I'm out of breath." I said, shutting my eyes and wishing this would all just go away. But it won't. I know it won't.

"Okay. Don't you worry, okay. We have an IV running thorugh your hand. You'll start to feel better soon, I promise." The doctors said. I just nodded my head back and shut my eyes. I know it was incredibly rude and probably not the right thing to do to just ignore them, but I couldn't focus on them right now.

I want to know what happened. Why this had to happen to me. What I was doing here.

"Dr. Meyers, the Pulmonologist has just arrived." I shot my eyes open at the word. Pulmonologist.

A pulmonologist is here, to fix my lung. I thought, suddenly remembering the distant darkness. My parents are here. I was in an accident. On the way home from Prom. And there's scars on my face. And my lung has a hole in it. But I'm going to be okay, dad said so.

One thought led to another, and now I had a better idea of what was going on.

"Prepare her for surgery. We want to do it immediately." The same doctor who asked me how I was doing said.

"I want to see my parents first." I said, searching despreately in his eyes.

"Paisley, you'll get to see them soon, I promise. We need to get you into the operating room as soon as we can though." I just nodded, as some of the nurses starting rolling the bed I was laid out on out of the room.

They pushed it through a hallway. There were people in scrubs walking around me. It was as if I was seeing everything around me in slow motion. I wanted to get off the bed and walk around, but I couldn't. I wanted to go see my parents, but I couldn't.

We wheeled into another room, this one much bigger than the last. The put me right in the middle. And then I saw a nurse walking towards me with a mask in her hands.

"Okay, Paisley. Just close your eyes for me, babe." No, I don't want to be put to sleep. I just woke up. I just nodded though, and obediently shut my eyes.

* * * * * * *

I opened my eyes, getting used to the feeling of coming back to it.

This time, however, I was relieved to see my parents sitting next to me. We were back in the same room as before. Before they took me away again, that is.

"Paisley." My mom sat next to me, relief written all over her face.

"Mom." I gasped, tears prickling my eyes. Finally, after what seemed like forever. "Dad."

They both approached the bed and wrapped their arms around me. Holding me close for a long time before letting go. My mom took a seat on the bed next to me, wrapping her hand in mine.

"Paisley, you're going to be okay." My dad said, looking straight into my eyes.

"What happened?" I sniffled, trying to wipe my nose, but afraid to disturb any of the wires or tubes running all alongside me.

"Well...there was an accident." My mom started, but started crying, so my dad finished for her.

"You were hit, Paisley. Your ribs were broken, and they punctured a lung. Y-your face, it was cut up. They've been wonderful though, the doctors. They've put everything in place. You're going to be okay. You'll have to recieve oxygen for awhile to help you breathe, but you'll be okay. You're alive." He explained, his voice cutting out at certain times.

I started crying as he spoke. Everything has changed. Nothing wil be the same again. I can't breathe. Anger and hysteria started coursing through me.

This isn't fair. Why did this have to happen to me? Why me, of all people.

My mom picked me up and held me as I sobbed into her shoulder, my body shaking. I don't care about the stupid tubes anymore; they can fall out if they want. What more can it do to me? I already won't be able to do the one life-stustaining function of breathing for the rest of my life.

"Sweetie, it's going to be okay."

"No, it won't." I yelled. They didn't understand. This wasn't my plan. My future, I had everything figured out. This wasn't supposed to happen. It just wasn't.

"You have every right to be upset." My dad said, and I just nodded, still in my hysterical state. I vacantly wondered why I had been so calm all before now. Why now was it just hitting me that my life has been changed forever in just one night?

After I had calmed down a bit, I just lay in silence, trying to think everything through.

I was hit. I remebered everything, and suddenly all I could see in the back of my mind were those emerald green eyes. Harry.

"W-what about.." I asked, my voice coming out small and quiet.

"What about what, hun?" My mom sniffled. She's been crying along with me all this time.

"U-uh, the other person." I said shakily. He should be the least of my worries right now, but I need to know what happened to him.

"You don't need to worry about him, Paisley." My dad said sternly.

"But, is he alright?" I asked, sinking down into my bed.

"He's fine." My dad said, and now he was speaking to me in an angry tone. "He's fine, and you're not. It was his fault and he's fine and you're not." My dad said furiously, clenching his fists.

"Well, dad. It couldn't have completely been his fault." I said, not really angry any more, just feeling sorry for myself.

"Oh but it is. He was drunk, Paisley." He siad and I swear my heart stopped. He was drunk. He had gone out and had a good time with his friends and made the careless decision to drive. I'm speechless. I knew Harry wasn't the best person, but I never had the audacity to think he'd put someone else's life on the line.

And now I was angry again. I was angry because I was dealing with the repurcussions of his actions.

We've all been taught since our first years in school to not drink and drive. Always. And like the logical person I am, I've never thought twice about doing it.

But not Harry. He was the stupid one. He did think twice, and went through with it.

So here I am, barely breathing with punctured lungs and a scarred up face.

"This isn't fair." I whispered, looking to my hands. "This isn't fair. I was the good one. I was the one who didn't drink. I was the responsible one." I whimpered, more tears running down my cheeks. I felt my mom's arms wrapping around me again.

Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Being angry and then being sad, and then crying. Am I ever going to get over this? My mom told me to lay down and try to get some rest. As always, I listened and shut my eyes, never wanting sleep to come more than I want it to now.

As my mind ran out of breath, a soothing sleep came over me.

* * * * * * *

It has been three days since I was admitted into the hospital.

I've been through three major surgeries since then.

I have three scars on my face; one slicing right through my right cheek, another traveling up alonside my hairline to my forehead, and the last along the bridge of my nose. They're not too bad, I guess. It could be worse.

I've come to terms with what happened. I'm not angry, just sad. I can't forget, but all I can do is let go.

And I'm not sad that it happened to me, just sad that it had to happen at all.

I'm not one to let things drag me down, so I don't see why this situation should be any different. It's not like I can go back and change what happened. I'm best to just accept it and try to find the good in what happened, even though there appears to be so little.

I've thought about Harry a lot this week. Not because I'm mad at him. I was in the beginning, so mad. After all, this is his fault. But I don't feel angry anymore, not that that won't change, because I could wake up tomorrow and feel angry all over again, but I don't want to carry anger with me.

Obviously, I haven't seen him since that night, and I don't really expect to see him. From what I've noticed about his character, he doesn't seem like a person to feel sympathy. And I don't want his sympathy, I don't want anybody's. The situation was out of our control.

I'd still like to think that maybe this experience changed him, just a little, if at all. That maybe, just maybe, it had some impact on him. It has for me, that's for sure.

I've learned that no matter what, life will throw you a curveball, but that's okay. I can't control everything. I can't think of any other reason for all of this happening besides the fact that our fate is decided for all of us. I'll forever be changed by what happened three nights ago.

And I just hope maybe he has been changed by this too.

* * * * * * *

"(Y/n), I want you to vote." Harry whispered in your ear. "Vote and I'll kiss you." A shiver went down your spine as his warm lips ghosted around your ear.

Well, listen to Harry!!

I'm lame, sorry. I hope you liked this chapter! ◡̈

Macy xx.