p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Mia" he queried as my spirit rushed back into my body. My eyes had just fluttered open. Adam. He was all I had left. Teddy. Mom. Dad. All gone. I can sort of remember the crash. We were listening to Ludwig van Beethoven and then a pickup came speeding towards us. You would've thought that I would have felt the impact. No. But now, I can feel the after effects of the countless surgeries and procedures I have endured since. I didn't seem to grasp the concept that I was the only, the sole, survivor of the crash but I knew that the feeling was there and when it finally hit, I would feel it. Grandma and Gramps came bustling into the room, each holding a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee, that is infamously found in hospital vending machines. They took in my open eyes and began to ask how I was feeling. "Um..." Was all I could get out. I couldn't really tell how I was really feeling. Not good. I had almost died. But almost doesn't count does it? /span/p
