"Hello, Kirstin, how are you feeling Today?" The brown haired man asks in a sickeningly sweet voice.
I roll my eyes.
This doctor has asked me the same thing everyday! And the answer is always THE SAME!
"I'm fine. How's your girlfriend?"
I ask sarcastically.
The doctor glances over at my mother, who sighs.
"She is doing well, but she wishes you would talk to her."
Yes, he is dating MY MOTHER!
I roll my eyes again.
I've been in this gutting hospital for a month now.
It's literally killing me.
"Can I just go home?"
I beg for the millionth time, gently rubbing my small crystal choker.
It was from my father and I always wear it.
The doctor, who's actual name is
Dr. Robert Black, takes a deep breath and nods.
Nods!
I sit up straighter.
"I can?" I squeak, hopefully.
"Yes. You've made great progress, considering you didn't even remember your own name when you got here.
So I, as head of your medical team, think you're good enough to go. As long as you take your medicine."
He says as I stick my tongue out and frown.
"Medicine." I scoff. "More like death in a pill."
Dr. Bob, as I call him, runs a hand down his face, and starts to remove the yucky tube from my good arm.
When he finishes, my mother drops a backpack of clothes on my bed, and they both leave the room.
I then get up, stretch, remove the short hospital gown, and pull on a pair of ripped black jeans and a twenty-one-pilots shirt.
Then I slip on my white, high top converses, and sling the backpack over shoulder.
I'm finally free!
I take one step and my head starts throb lightly.
I ignore it, hoping it will go away, and walk out.

The car ride home is silent.
I stare out the window the whole time, thinking about the wreck.
That's how I ended up in the hospital in the first place.
Me and three of my friends had been on our way back from the movies, when a semi came out of nowhere and hit the corner of the car, right where I was.
The car had flipped several times, and my hand had gotten crushed and shredded.
That's why I don't have one anymore.
My head also got pretty banged up, and we were all really bruised.
Two of my friends had small concussions and some cuts and bruises.
My third friend was practically fine, and I almost died. I'm fine now, but some people still think I'm crazy.
But that might also be cause I have bright red hair with neon green highlights and saw blade earrings.
Yeahhhhh... my look is pretty wild.
And my hair is not dyed red.
I was just born with it.
It's hacked off at about my chin, but I'm thinking of letting it grown out and get dreadlocks.
Oh, and by the way, my name is Kirstin Alima Bayne.
Weird, right?
Yeah, my dad had a knack for weird names.
His name was Errol Loki Forkle, but he insisted me use my mother last name.
He died when I was fifteen.
I'm seventeen now.
I miss him a lot, but I didn't get to see much of him, anyway. He worked a lot and was always out of town.
But he tried to visit at least once every three months. And he sent lots of gifts. And money.
We have always been well off because of him.
After he died though, it just felt like part of me died with him.
We didn't even get to see his body.
It was destroyed in the fire.

(Hope you like this!
And, are high top converses an actual thing? 😂😂😂 I'm not good with shoes..... Or cars)