Dan


The first thing I heard was the wailing of sirens in the distance, drawing closer. I opened my eyes, wondering what the emergency might've been. When I opened my eyes and my vision cleared, I had to swallow the initial shock when I realized, oh, this was the emergency. I saw the flashing lights out the corner of my eyes, and the brightness of them stung a bit. My head reeled and I tried to remember what had happened. Vague images flashed through my head –driving on a sunny morning, a red light, the shattering of the windshield- overlain with mine and Phil's voices arguing over how he wanted a stupid guinea pig for his birthday.

"Phil…" I groaned, remembering how my boyfriend was in the seat next to me. I twisted my head, throbbing in pain as blood dripped down my face, twisting as far as I could manage to get a look at him. He was unconscious, head hanging too far forward, hair matted down with blood and face even paler than usual. I almost vomited when I saw how he was pinned between his seat and the steering wheel.

"Phil, wake up," I groaned, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. If he could hear me, he was conscious and obviously in a lot of pain, and he didn't need me to be scared right now. For his sake, I needed to be strong. "Phil, please, wake up. Answer me, baby, come on, wake up." Tears were falling and mixing with the blood on my face, pinprick wounds from the shattered glass of the windows. I reached out for him with one weak arm –he was cold, and I couldn't tell if he was breathing.

I started to panic just when my door was opened easily by a paramedic. He told me to stay calm, that I would be out of there in no time. I let out something that sounded like a sob, but choked right in the middle. I tasted blood in my mouth. "No, forget about me, help him!" I whined, voice cracking as they fastened something around my neck and I was removed, carefully but quickly, from the vehicle and laid out on a gurney. I tried to make them understand that Phil was hurt and I needed to stay with him, be there for him like a good boyfriend should be.

They had to sedate me. I was being loaded into the ambulance and Phil was still trapped in the car.

I woke up to tears dripping down my face much like blood had that day. I hated myself for that; I didn't have the money to get him a fucking guinea pig and god knows neither of us were prepared to even take care of a goldfish, but I didn't have to keep going on and on about it, calling him a child and telling him to grow up over a dumb birthday wish. I would do anything to take it back.

I turned to my boyfriend, sleeping soundly next to me in our bed. I moved closer to him, both lying on our sides now –he'd been facing away from me but it wasn't his fault. I squeezed my arm to tuck under his waist and wrap the other around his shoulders, hand splayed out on his chest. I pulled him flush against me, letting out a soft sigh against his neck, relishing in his warmth.

It had been two weeks since the accident, and in the waking hours Phil was still adjusting to getting by without use of eighty percent of his body. I helped, putting aside everything to assist him in continuing life as normally as possible. We were slipping into a sort of routine that worked well, but it of course wasn't the same. Nothing was, nor would it ever be again.

I pressed my face into his shoulder, keeping my boyfriend tight against me. I tried to fall back asleep, but sleep didn't come straight away like I'd hoped it would. My mind wouldn't rest as long as I knew that I was to blame for the accident that so horribly crippled the love of my life. I would spend forever just trying to make up for it, but no amount of apologizing would reverse the spinal injury and give Phil his body back.

Tears soaked the back of his pyjama shirt. I just hoped it would dry by morning.


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