Hello everyone~! I got an interesting PM today from METAnonymous. METAnonymous challenged me to write this story, and I accepted. So here it is. NO FLAMS PREPZ! Just kidding, I'm not Tara Gillespie. (If you don't know who that is, look her up on Google. Her story, My Immortal, is hilariously stupid.)

~~Second Chance~~

Courtney sighs and walks quickly across the asphalt road, heading towards her house. Cranking the volume on her small gray iPod louder, she closes her eyes and tries to slow down her breathing. "Gives You Hell" by the All American Rejects flow through her ears. Heather, the person she hated most at her private school, had pushed her over the limit today and she was trying to calm down. Embarrassing her in front of all of her peers was harsh. All of a sudden, she feels a hard shove in the middle of her back, which sends her flying onto the cold, hard sidewalk.

'It's some stupid little kid on a skateboard trying to race his friends home or something equally stupid, I bet,' she thinks as she stares at the sidewalk, rage building up inside her.

"What the fu-"

She hears a sharp cry of pain and twists around quickly to see a small black car crashed into a fire hydrant, a drunk man leaning against his steering wheel with two equally drunk friends hanging out the windows in the backseat, and a broken guy laying on the ground, unconscious or maybe even dead. She screams as a dark realization enters her mind.

'That's where I was just standing!' she thinks, shaking as she reaches into her bag for her cell phone.

She pulls out her cell phone quickly, dialing 911, and starts frantically explaining the situation. She hands up and looks at the scene. It made her sick how close she had come to death. She hugs herself as she sees the twisted, bloodied body of the man who jumped in front of the car and pushed her out of the way. The three guys in the car were bloodied also, and a beer bottle rolls out of the driver's hand and crashes onto the ground. Soon enough, blinking lights and loud sirens inform Courtney that the police cars and an ambulance had arrived. The police pull out and arrest the drunk men and the paramedics strap the man onto the gurney and load him into the back. One paramedic sticks out a hand and helps Courtney into the back. She takes a seat on a wooden box by the side.

'He.. He pushed me out of the way..' Courtney thinks.

She leans against the wall of the back while studying the man who saved her life. Or, should she say, boy. He looked about 17, a year older than herself. She sees his bright green Mohawk and noticed that he had a few eyebrow rings and a nose ring, and looked pretty tough.

"Ma'am," a paramedic says as he touches her arm softly. "Are you alright? You'll be getting a check up at the hospital, just in case you are hurt or anything."

Courtney nods and returns to her studying of the savior. He had come out of nowhere, and she was ever so thankful.

'I live, but he dies saving me? That's not right!' Courtney thinks as she watches his heart rate get slower on the defibrillator, tears streaming down her face. She sniffs and covers her face with her hands, trying to stop herself from crying.

They arrive at the hospital a few minutes later. Two paramedics gently help Courtney out of the back and into the hospital as the other two rush the boy inside quickly.

Following the paramedics inside the sterile, cold hospital, Courtney's mind is fogged of thoughts about the boy. Will he be alright? She hoped so. She dearly hoped so. But until she found out, she told herself, she'd have to focus on finding out if she had any injuries of her own.

She's led to a small white hospital room and is told to lay on the bed and wait. She sighs and lays down slowly, the creeping doubt of worry flashing in her mind again. Her fingers coil around the starch white bed sheets and she tries to calm herself down. Outside her window, she sees that it had started raining. A light rain that always seemed to calm Courtney, which it did so right then.

A few minutes later, a doctor and her nurses enter the room and begin to check up on Courtney.

"Does it hurt when I raise your arm like so?" the doctor asks and Courtney shakes her head. "What about whenever I move your wrist?"

Courtney whimpers slightly, giving the doctor her answer.

After an hour of poking and moving, the doctor had ruled that Courtney had a sprained left wrist and a few bumps and bruises on her arms and legs. They hear a knock on the door and one of the nurses goes and opens it.

"Your parents are here to see you," the male nurse, George, says, opening the door to show her worried parents. Black marks of mascara run down her crying mother's face while her father holds her in his arms, his eyes bloodshot.

"Oh Courtney!" her mother gasps as she rushes to her bed and hugs her tightly. "I'm so thankful that you are okay!" She starts sobbing all over again and Courtney hugs her mother back, feeling sorry for her.

"Your mother and I were very worried about you," her father says softly, placing a warm hand on her back and rubbing it gently as he takes a spot on the other side of the bed.

The doctor clears her throat and fixes her plastic name tag, which read, "Doctor Wulfe" in dark printed letters. She taps her clipboard lightly with her black ink pen and the three reunited family members looked up and gave her their full attention. The doctor looks at them gravely, then glances down at her clipboard, rifling through papers until she finds the one she was looking for.

"As you know, the young man jumped in front of your daughter, pushing her out of the way and onto the sidewalk, which, in turn, resulted in himself getting ran over by the Buick," she starts and Courtney's breath quickens. "The young man's wallet, which was found at the scene of the accident, contained a small driver's license. It was completely torched and contained skid marks across it, except for the small part where his name was. All that was visible was his first name, and it read 'Duncan'. All other records of him are inexistent, leading us to believe that he is from a different town. We don't know which, so basically we have no knowledge of who he is." Doctor Wulfe sighs and fixes her glasses. "He right now is in a coma, most likely caused by blood loss. He has a couple of bruised ribs, a broken collar bone, and a fairly severe head injury. If he wouldn't have been present, your daughter would have been killed dead on the scene, judging from where the car crashed and where your daughter was reported to be standing by eyewitnesses. At best it would've paralyzed her for the rest of her life," the doctor says and Courtney's mother and father gasp.

"But what about the boy?" Courtney asks, still upset. Her lip trembles at the thought of him dying. It was her fault. If she wouldn't have taken so long at debate club organizing those papers, if she would've walked a little quicker…

"He'll be fine," Doctor Wulfe says, "but it'll be a miracle if he doesn't have memory loss or mental trauma whenever he wakes up from his coma."

"Well, what's going to happen to him then?" Courtney asks, using all her will to keep from crying.

"Whenever he wakes up, which I don't know for sure if he ever will, he'll most likely be sent to a juvenile prison or a foster home until he's 18 since we do not know any family members," Doctor Wulfe sighs, fixing the papers on her clipboard once again.

Courtney sighs and lays back into her parent's embrace again. Doctor Wulfe wraps a small amount of gauze around her wrist.

"Put ice on it daily, and it'll be healed in a week or two," she says to her parents, who nod. "Now, I'll have George sign you out and you guys may leave."

They follow Dr. Wulfe to the waiting room, where her parents sign her out. They walk to the front door, shown to the door by the doctor, when Courtney turns around to face Dr. Wulfe.

"If he ever wakes up, please call my family or myself," she whispers, looking up at her as her parents exit the building. Dr. Wulfe sighs and nods. Satisfied for the moment, Courtney scurries off behind her parents, thoughts of the mysterious hero boggling down her mind.

Why would he help her? Honestly, why danger himself for a complete stranger? Most people would've just sat and watched, then send their apologies to her parents at her funeral. She couldn't grasp it. As much as she would like to think that she would, she knows that she wouldn't have helped. She would've been too frightened.

She follows her parents into the car and hugs herself as she watches the rain drops race down the window. She watches the hospital until it's out of sight, then turns to stare at the driver's seat, tightening the seat belt around her subconsciously. Her parents try to console her, but finally realize she has drifted into her own thoughts and stop talking.

That night, Courtney lays in her warm bed in her pink and gray striped silk pajamas. She curls up into a ball, worrying. She knew she wouldn't get much sleep that night. The rain pounds against her window and she wraps herself tighter in her quilt, squeezing her eyes shut.