It was light out.

The chairs were empty. The room was cold. I didn't know what day it was. I didn't know what time it was.

A pile of cards and flowers and balloons sat on a table. They were new. Probably all with some version of the same get well soon message. I wasn't going to be getting well soon. The cards were too bright. The messages too cheery.

Stupid fucking cards.

A stuffed bear sat in the middle of the cards, a stupid grin stitched on its face. It wore a football jersey and helmet. Who the fuck had gotten me that? I wanted it gone. I wanted it thrown out. Burned.

"Well," a friendly voice tore me away from the cards, "Look who's finally awake."

A woman in scrubs stood in the door holding a clipboard to her chest. She started thumbing through pages, checking beeping monitors.

"So, Jake," she asked, "How you feeling today sweetie? Better than last time I hope."

"Yeah, fine."

"Well that's good, dear. You were pretty beat up in that accident," she looked down at my files on her clipboard, "Looks like you had a pretty bad concussion. And tore up your right shoulder pretty badly too. But don't worry, you'll heal up in no time."

I nodded.

"You should consider yourself lucky, Jake. Your legs stayed clear of any serious damage, and no internal bleeding either. Besides that right arm and nasty cut on your head, I'd say you escaped with minimal damage."

Minimal damage. Losing a father was now considered minimal damage.

The nurse continued on about how nicely I was healing while she glanced at the machines. The hum of her voice scratched at the hollow silence. My mind went back to those stupid cards.

"Jake," she said too loudly, "Jake?"

"What?"

"I said I'll bringing up dinner in a moment," she turned to leave and smiled, "You are one lucky kid, you'll regain full movement in your right arm with the proper physical therapy."

She left.

What?

"Regain movement in my arm?" I repeated.

Why would she say that?

My arm was fine. It didn't hurt. I looked down for the first time. A large brace wrapped my right shoulder down to my wrist.

I tried to lift it. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. My brain couldn't make my arm move. I couldn't move my arm.

"No," I muttered shaking my head, "This can't be happening, no, no. I'm dreaming again. This isn't real."

My future, goals dreams. I needed this arm to work, I couldn't be injured or broken. My right arm had to work. I couldn't throw, or catch, or run with a limp arm. I wouldn't be drafted. I wouldn't be recruited if I couldn't play.

I looked at my arm again.

No future. No winning games. No playing in college. No making it big on a pro team.

I felt nothing. Then everything. Then nothing. My mind rolled with thoughts, then they washed away. An ocean bringing trash to the shore with each wave, leaving behind pieces as it washed away. So many thoughts, then fragments and nothing. So many thoughts, then nothing.

I was going to be fine. My arm would be fine. Dad would be fine.

Dad was gone.

Who would keep me to my workout schedule? Who would be there to beat on my door if I hadn't woken up in time? Who was going to cheer me on? Or help me remember game plays? Or do the things that a dad was supposed to?

My arm was ruined. My dad was gone. My life was over.

"Hey, sweetie," my mother's weary voice echoed through my thoughts, "You better today?"

She looked exhausted. Burdened by what I had done.

"How long?" I said.

"How long?"

"How long since, since the, accident?"

"A week. It's been a week," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "It's going to be hard Jake, but we can get through it. I promise, baby."

Seven days.

A whole week gone. The game was over. The scouts gone.

Mom sniffed and wiped her eyes. She gave a half-hearted smile, "But look who I brought with me!" She turned and motioned towards the hallway. Footsteps rapidly drew closer, stopping in the door.

"Jake. Oh my God. Jake are you okay?"

Kelsey.

"Oh my God, stupid question, of course you're not okay."

Mom silently slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaving us alone.

"Kelsey."

"Oh Jake. I am so sorry." Those gorgeous green eyes stared into my own, worry and concern. I reached out and gently touched her perfect face with my left hand. She smiled softly and caught my hand in her own. Gripping it tight, she held it to her cheek.

"Hey, it's okay," I whispered, my voice hoarse and cracking. I had never lied to Kelsey before.

"I know, I know it will be. I just miss your dad already."

"I know. I...I miss him too."

"Oh Jake, I'm so sorry." Kelsey sat in the chair next to the bed and hugged my hand to her chest. I couldn't find the right words. Or any words. I said nothing. She ran her fingers up and down my arm, avoiding the IV line in my forearm. Gently, ever so gently, she kissed my cheek and I felt more tears on my cheeks.

She gripped my hand tighter. A small reminder she was still there. She was still in my life and would be there when everything else was falling apart. At that moment nothing else mattered. Not the dull throbbing of my right arm, not the weight of what I'd done. Not the beeping monitors, it didn't matter. Kelsey was mine and she was alive.

A knock on the door startled me awake. A different nurse walked in with dinner. She set it down on the rotating table next to the bed and left, paying no mind to Kelsey.

Kelsey lifted her head off the bed, wiped her mouth.

"Sleep well?" I asked. My stomach growled. I couldn't remember the last meal I ate.

"Mmmm, yeah, sorry," her voice was still thick with sleep and she scrubbed at her eyes, trying to force them awake, "What's for dinner?"

"I don't know. Not sure if I want to."

Kelsey tugged at the swinging table tray bringing it closer to the bed. Lifting the cover off the tray of food, she suspiciously peeked under it and then lifted the whole top off.

"Well it looks like, well I'm not exactly sure what that is, but it's definitely all for you."

She made a face at the food and stood up. Bending down she lowered her face to mine and gently parted her lips touching them down to my own. It lasted only a few seconds, but it seemed like eternity.

"I'll try to come and visit again before you get out, hope it's soon. Matt and all of them send you their best wishes. Matt says he hasn't slept since you got hurt, I think he really misses you." She held my hand for a second and then let go. "Love you, Jake."

"Love you too," I murmured and watched her leave. After she was gone I turned my attention to the meal on the plate. I wasn't sure what it was. Food was food.

After only a few bites I couldn't eat any more. My stomach clenched. The food felt too heavy and real.

I heard Dad say how bad the food here was. How out of shape I've gotten in a few days. He told me to eat more protein. But he wasn't really there. He was gone. Dead. Because of me.

I dropped the fork on the desk and spit out the last mouthful of food into my napkin. My head was hurting again and my arm was pulsing.

Sleep came again. I welcomed the comfort of dark.