Wow guys, 13 reviews and like 15 alerts, that's seriously amazing! I didnt think it would get that much interest! I'm happy you seem to like this idea. I read what I had posted and thought it was pretty shit, so I'm going to make this chapter better. Please keep reviewing; once again I need 8 before I post again.

Oh and to the readers of 'too good to be true' i haven't forgotten it, i just want to establish this fic first

sorry for the typo's i really need to get a BETA!

My eyes widened as I began hyperventilating, what the hell had I done?

I raced down the stairs as fast as my legs could take me, diving down beside her. I scanned her face frantically searching for any sign of movement, but nothing.

I gently pushed back the hair covering her face, matted with blood, oh my god, she was bleeding. I felt tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I checked her pulse, the slow beating indicating that this wasn't good.

I dug my hand in my pocket, pulling out my cell, before dialling 999 as fast as my fingers allowed. My hand was shaking violently as I raised the phone to my ear, telling the operator what had happened.

The bell went, signalling the end of lunch, shit.

I called Nate; we needed help, and fast.

"N-Nate" I managed to choke out, my breathing still erratic

"Yo Shane, where the hell were you at lunch, we had some banging ideas for the band?"

"Get the nurse"

"Why man?"

"Just get the nurse, please" I begged, my voice now dripping with desperation, tears now spilling freely down my cheek

"Where are you, what's happened?" his voice became serious

"The stairs by the outdoor gardens. It-t-s Mitchie."

My thumb hit the end call button as I returned my focus to her now pale face, she looked so fragile.

"I-I'm sorry" my breath got caught in my throat as the reality of what had happened hit me. My body began to jerk as I let the sobs pass my lips. How had it gotten to this?

Why had it gotten to this?

"I'm so sorry, I really am" I bowed my head, my fringe covering my eyes "I don't hate you"

I continued to sob as I heard footsteps approach us; I lifted my head slightly, peering through my fringe to see none other than Nate and the school nurse.

His eyes widened with shock and disbelief as he saw her lying on the ground

"What happened?!" Mrs Fitzgerald asked obviously alarmed.

"S-she fell. We had an argument and" I paused, pursing my eyes shut as tightly as possible "she fell"

Everything else was a blur until the paramedics arrived, my eyes never once leaving her face as they carefully lifted her on to a stretcher before placing a brace around her neck.

"Son, do you want to come in the ambulance with her, I'm sure she'd like her friend with her" I felt my stomach flip uneasily as those words exited the male paramedic's mouth, a friend? If she wanted a friend beside her it would be Caitlyn Gellar, but she's conveniently half way around the world on a 12 week cruise. Hell if she wanted a friend, she'd prefer anyone compared to me.

I nodded meekly, not wanting to leave her side until I knew she was okay. I brought myself to my feet, my legs shaking slightly under me as became lightheaded. I gripped onto the shoulder of Nate, trying my best to keep my balance

"She'll be okay dude" Nate reassured me, but I didn't believe it. In all honesty I don't think he believed it either.

I just wordlessly followed the paramedics out of the school, crowds of pupils staring at us wide eyed and opened mouth until the ambulance door was shut firmly behind us.

I paced the length of the waiting room over and over again, the wait was unbearable. My head was spinning, reliving every moment Mitchie and I had shared over the past 11 years, and it pained me to conclude that not one single moment was a happy one.

I had allowed myself to keep grip of the grudge for over a decade for what? Revenge? Well I got that didn't I?

Revenge is supposed to be sweet. But this isn't. Not even close.

Mitchie's parents had confronted me earlier, distraught but understanding towards what had happened. I repeated over and over again how I didn't mean for it to happen, that I would never dream of inflicting any intentional harm on their daughter, and they believed me. After all I didn't. I may dislike her greatly, but not to the extent where I wanted her to end up in ICU in a coma.

That's right, a coma.

I Shane Grey had put a seventeen year old girl into a coma, not knowing if she would ever wake up from it.

I glanced up at the clock, 9:48 pm, the waiting room silent besides my shallow breathing and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

I took a deep breath as I made my way into the corridor, standing opposite to where Mitchie was laying. I cautiously took a few steps forward; the only thing separating the two of us is a door and a glass panel. I bring my gaze from the floor to the door, mentally plucking up the courage to walk into the room.

My hand made contact with the cold metal handle as I slowly forced the door open, before shutting it behind me. I reluctantly brought my gaze to her fragile form, laying still, numerous wires and machines hooked up to her. I felt the breath get caught in my throat once more as my eyes rested on her face.

Her complexion a grey-white colour, her expression relaxed, but that wasn't what got me. It was the large gash down the side of her forehead, illuminated by a deep purple bruise.

I sat down in the vacant chair beside her, taking her small hand in mine "I'm sorry Mitchie, I really am. I should have never let it get to this, I should have just grown up and moved on, blaming the incident in second grade on the fact that we were young and didn't know what was right and what was wrong" I cleared my throat before continuing "I guess hating you was the easy option, easier than admitting that I was humiliated by you and jealous that I couldn't move on. I never wanted to admit it out loud but I think I've always been jealous of you. How easily you made friends, how you could get A+ without even trying, how carefree you come across"

My 'confession' was interrupted as a middle aged nurse entered the room, looking at me sympathetically "I'm afraid visiting hours are over now, but you're welcome to stay in the waiting room, or come back first thing in the morning"

"Okay" I breathed out before yawning, I'd go home in the morning, but for now I'm not going anywhere

-

Life was becoming unbearable, the guilt of what I had done, getting so much that I was no longer able to function, the most simplest of things becoming literally impossible. It had been three days since it had all happened, and I haven't had the balls to see anyone from school. At least I wasn't faced with seeing anyone for seven weeks, by then, hopefully, things might have blown over, not likely, but I can hope.

By now everyone knew what had happened, some peoples versions more exaggerated than others. Nate had told me that one of the most popular rumours was I pushed her down the stairs because she wouldn't go on a date with me, others had said that I had picked her up and chucked her down the flight of stairs because I was a lunatic. I don't know which one I preferred.

Either way I was hated by the majority of the student body along with myself.

I hated myself for what I had done, if I could I would swap with her, I really would.

In the space of the last few days I had been home once, for about half an hour, packing a large duffle bag of things I might need during my stay in the waiting room opposite her ICU ward. I vowed to myself that I would not leave her side until she woke, that I was profusely apologise until my vocal cords snapped, begging her for my forgiveness.

I found myself spending the majority of my day in her room, rearranging the several bouquets of flowers she had received and the endless amounts of 'get well' cards, anything to preoccupy my mind.

I had asked Mrs Torres basic facts about Mitchie, after reading on the internet that being surrounded by familiar things can potentially help bring coma patients back round.

I tried everything, her favourite films, TV programmes, band, but she remained unresponsive. It came as a shock to me how much we had in common whilst I was talking to Connie; our shared love in song writing and music as well as playing the guitar.

I took her hand, placing it palm up as I studied her smooth calloused fingers, before placing it back beside her.

I yawned, my lack of sleep all of a sudden overwhelming me as I leant forward, resting my head upon the side of her bed, my eyelids dropping automatically, lulling me into a state of unconsciousness.

-

I don't know how long I had been knocked out for until I heard rustling from besides me, my eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the bright light as I raised my head off of the bed. I automatically brought my eyes to her face as the rustling continued

"Mitchie" I breathed out in relief as I saw her sitting up, looking around her surroundings, after three days, 72 agonising hours, she was finally awake.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a confused expression plastered across her face "Who are you?"

Aw I feel sorry for Shane, don't you? Aw his emotional turmoil! Well she's awake, and she doesn't know who Shane is, good times. Keep on reviewing to find out what she actually remembers, if anything, and what Shane's gunna do about it.

Question: Honest opinion- what do you think of this fic so far?