This is just a little - well, I think it's going to be little, I don't know - thing. Um, part experiment, part 'I felt like it'. Just tell me what you think, please. xx

My name is Emily. I am sixteen and have poker-straight, flaming red hair - quick temper, yeah, I know, I've heard it all before - and green eyes. I'm a stereotype redhead, basically. I suppose I'm relatively tall for sixteen, but my figure... well, less said about that, the better in my opinion. Everyone says that I have a great figure and that they would die for my complexion. Yeah, right. Liars.

Anyway, Mom had finally got sick of my laying about the house (it was the first week of the summer hols, and I was already sick of them) and demanded that I get outside and catch some sun. Uh, Mom, don't know if you've noticed but... I'm a redhead! Redheads. Don't. Do. Sun. And besides, how the hell do you 'catch' some sun? Stalk it with a net?

My Mom is so annoying. I mean, yeah, she has her moments, but most of the time her sole purpose in life seems to be to make mine a misery because hers is practically over. Now, I'm not saying that all blondes are airheaded WAG wannabes, not at all - although, coincedently, most of them are - but my Mom is definitely the Head Blonde. She spends her days reading celeb gossip mags, reading stupid romance novels about fellow blondes and 'hunky' men, and meeting up with her 'friends' to discuss what builder has the biggest six-pack. Great role-model, eh?

But, yeah, she said -

"Emily, for goodness' sake, get off that sofa! It's the summer holidays! Get outside and catch some sun!"

Rather than argue with my dear mother, I just smiled and popped another dorrito into my mouth. This time though, she wouldn't leave it.

"Out!" she said, pulling me off the couch and practically flinging me out the door.

Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot.

I sighed and decided I might as well go and hang out with one of my girfriends for a few hours. That is, if they didn't have one of their jock boyfriends round. Hmm... who could I tolerate most? Probably Dean, as he wasn't a jock, per say - more a highly cute and fit musical geek. He loved musicals. Loved 'em. Ask him anything - how many awards Phantom of the Opera has won? Complete this sentence: The cat himself knows and will never...? The oldest brother in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Coat? Seriously. It was kinda freaky.

Although...

No, not even then.

So I was heading over to Becka's when the car came out of nowhere. One moment I was crossing the road, absolutely nothing in sight, and the next, I was sprawled on the ground, the car speeding away too quickly for me to get a good look at it. My head felt kind of fuzzy, and I lifted a hand to my forehead. The red liquid on my hand was wet and sticky.

My stomach flipped.

I wasn't too good with that particular substance.

Just before my vision went completely black, I thought I saw a pale face leaning over to me. Hands in my hair. A voice in my ear, telling me I would be okay.

Nice thought.

o0o0o

I woke up in hospital. Just my luck, really. Mom was sitting beside me. To her credit, she didn't jump or scream when I opened my eyes and asked what had happened. She said that I'd been hit by a car and the doctor was waiting till I was awake to sort me out. She'd texted my dad and told him. I told her she shouldn't have bothered.

My parents had split when I was eleven. It didn't bother me though, 'cause I'd known they were gonna drop something like that on me sooner or later. Besides, he'd never been much of a dad. Y'know the dads that have visiting rights, and when they finally use them they're like, 'So, uh, when d'ya normally go to bed?' and 'I hope you like takeout, 'cause...'

Yep, that's my dad.

Anyway, all that seemed like stupid babble the moment the doctor/ angel walked into the room.

His perfect blond hair had a gorgeous curl to it and hung in his eyes slightly. He flicked it back and smiled.

Thank God I was already sitting.

"Hello," the angel said. "I'm Dr. Cullen." He looked into my eyes and I swear my bones turned to water. It's a weird feeling, let me tell you. "Shall we get you fixed up, Emily?"

All I could do was nod.

"Alright. Let me get my bag. I'll be right back."

As soon as he turned the corner at the nurses' desk and disappeared from view, my Mom spoke. I noticed her cheeks were pink and her eyes were wide. Uh-oh.

"He seems nice, doesn't he, Em?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's too young for you. And there's no way he's single," I added, trying to dissuade her.

I was used to this. No man was safe from my Mom. She was always on the lookout. Doctors, builders, plummers, teachers (At my school? Yeah, right), even the guy at the pizza place - as long as they could walk and talk, they could be 'The One'.

Mom licked her lips. She was still staring. "Well, I don't know. He could be in his thirties, at a push. And you never know..." Her gaze shifted to me. "Guys don't always stay in relationships."

"Just don't embarass yourself," I sighed. Her choice. Her mistake.

Either way, so not my problem.