Broken Promises

Mend Pain. That was the only thing her confused mind could process. Nothing but pain. But why? Why pain? The questions weren't answered and her mind slipped into unconsciousness.

Bu-boom. Bu-boom. The sound of her heart relived her as her mind awoke again. She couldn't open her eyes, they felt like stone. She felt her mind register the word again. Pain. Call it whatever you want; uncomfortable, shock, maimed, bloody. She felt it. Why though? Nothing had happened. Or did it? Her mind sent a message to her eyes. Open. Her eyes did so, only to be welcomed by pain. The eyelashes touching her skin felt like rocks. She moved her pupils, maybe the only thing that didn't hurt. Him. He sat frozen, tears in his eyes. If only she could make tears. Something to help this feeling inside her. Her ears could make out a sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. Was it her head buzzing or her damaged ears? Moving her eyes, she saw a heart monitor. No.

She focused her sight back on him. Seeing her eyes move, he had jumped up. "You're all right. I know you are." His words gave her strength. She opened her mouth. Wrong idea. Pain shot through her jaw, forcing it closed. He stood up, shock on his face. "You are alive." She wanted scream, "I know! Where am I? What happened?"

He stood up yelling, "She's alive!"

A young female doctor rushed in. She scribbled something on a chart, and leaned over her. "Sweetie, can you hear me?" Her voice echoed in her mind, making her ears buzz. She opened her mouth again, happy to find the pain wasn't as intense as before. But her vocal cords felt as if they had been tied in knots, preventing her from speaking. Peeking down the bed she was in, she saw her leg suspended in air, solidly covered in a cast. The rest of her was covered in gashes, bruises, bumps, and cuts. She looked away. No wonder she felt pain.

The doctor wrote some more things in on the chart, and called for another doctor. "Sorry son, but we're taking her to surgery," the female doctor said, leading him out. He nodded sadly, his eyes glowing with tears. She wanted him with her, but a mask was placed over her face, and put her to sleep, with more questions than answers.

Her mind once again, processed it. Pain. Why? Just why? And where was he? She felt compelled to open her eyes, but her mind wouldn't let her. It's not time yet.

He caressed her cheek. Her eyes opened. "Thank God."

Her vocal cords still felt twisted, but she managed to rasp a little. She looked over and saw the I.V. going into her arm. The needle made her flinch. Agh, flinching hurt. He was blurry though, she needed her eyesight to be corrected. She tried rasping again. "H-el-p," she whispered. His eyes opened wide. "Jeanette? Di-did you just…talk?" He gave her glasses to her. Everything became clear, including how puffy his eyes were. He must have been crying. A sudden pain in my leg brought tears to my eyes too. She lifted a trembling finger to her leg. "Nurse, can we get some pain killers?" He stood up, calling for the nurse.

The nurse gave her some pain killers. She was able to speak a little more now. He stood up and whispered to her, "Are you ready for some guests?" She nodded. He opened the door, and in poured Brittany, Eleanor, and Miss Miller. "Thank you, Simon," Miss Miller said, before he left. Eleanor rushed to her side and began crying. "Oh Jeanette!" She cried into Miss Miller's shirt. Brittany had some tears in her eyes as well. Her voice was faltering, but she managed to squeak, "What happened to me?" Miss Miller and Brittany exchanged worried glances. "Jeanette, let me explain."

Jeanette walked arm in arm with Simon. They were coming home from the library. Simon pecked her on the cheek, making Jeanette blush. "Simon, you're too good for me," she said. "Nonsense, you're too good for me," he said back. They both laughed and began talking awhile, until they reached a busy street. "Watch for cars," Simon reminded her. Jeanette nodded. Simon went first, and waited for Jeanette. Jeanette began, but tripped, and landed hard. A speeding car hurtled towards her. "NO!" Simon screamed, running for her. It was too late, Jeanette had been hit. "STOP!" He screamed, making the stop symbol with his hands. All the cars stopped, and a women stepped out and dialed 9-1-1.

Simon ran home, where his siblings were watching "I Love Lucy" reruns. "Guys! Jeanette…" Simon was panting, out of breath from running. His cheeks glistened with tears. "Simon, what's wrong?" Dave asked. "Jeanette was hit by a car!" He finally broke down, crying into Dave's shoulder. Eleanor jumped up so fast, she knocked Brittany off the couch. "Come on kids, we're going to the hospital." Dave said, opening the living room door. No one argued, Brittany and Alvin silent for once.

At the hospital, Simon didn't even bother asking for what room. He knew. "Floor 3, Room 12." Their lucky numbers, together. Simon opened the door. There she was. Hooked up to many machines, leg up, ugly gashes on her skin. But Simon didn't flinch at the sight, he just rushed to her.

"I love you."

Jeanette's tear ducts were finally able to secrete some liquid. "Bring him in," her hoarse voice sounded as rough as the hard pavement she had laid on. Miss Miller sent Brittany out to get Simon. He came in, his glasses halfway off his face. "Yes, Jeanette?" He asked this, gently holding her battered hand.

"I love you, too."

13 years later, they married. They had 3 kids. Jason, Philip, and Violet. At age 78, Simon died in his sleep. Jeanette suffered a stroke just a few months later. Jason went on, and now works as a college professor. Philip is well known by the government, and has his own lab. Violet won a Nobel Prize for her novel about world peace. Every month, they meet in the same grave yard to talk to their parents, who look upon their children in heaven. Simon and Jeanette loved, were loved, and pass the love to their kids.

I wasn't quite sure if this story had a title or not, so I put it upon my self to make one. But okay another wonderful sotry by miss Wendy. One of my loyal and content readers. I must say that i did not write, or co-write any of this. All credit belongs to Wendy.