Can I just say how horribly guilty I feel for not updating in forever and a half? Gosh, I just want to cry! I'm so very sorry guys! I know it's no excuse, but I've just been SO busy! I have tons of homework as I'm taking all AP and honors classes plus this year I'm on a varsity team at school. So my schedule is super tight. Not only that, but I've just been at a loss for what to write. I have everything for all my stories planned out; it's just a matter of writing it. And even though I have a plan written out, I still suffer from writer's block because I don't always know how transition between different ideas.
But beyond the point. This chapter is my absolute favorite by far! It's Artie's chapter, so congrats to all those who guessed Artie! It has the most interesting twist out of all the chapters this story has to offer so far. It may not be the longest, but I think it gets the point across. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!
School was a bore. Glee club was definitely not gleeful. They sat there wallowing in their self-pity and staring at the floor. Even Mr. Schuester had nothing to say for once. He decided to give them the day off. They would meet again tomorrow and get back on track. They needed a new set list for regionals.
Finn tried to say something to Quinn about the CDs, but she left before he could. Everyone gave Finn a sympathetic look before they left. Mr. Schuester squeezed his shoulder and told him it would all get better with time. Finn bit his tongue to keep from telling Mr. Schuester nothing would ever fill the emptiness in him that Rachel left behind. Kurt told him not to wait for him because Blaine was giving him a ride home. Finn nodded his head; it gave him more time to himself.
He climbed into his truck and turned on the radio. It started blaring 'The One That Got Away' by Katy Perry. He listened to the lyrics and frowned, turning it off in the next instant. He didn't need any reminding of the girl that got away.
Finn drove home in silence. He refused to think of Rachel in fear of bursting into tears. He entered his house and trudged off straight to his room, ignoring the concerned look that flashed in his mother's eyes as he walked by her. As soon as he entered his room, he eyed the CD player. But he knew that as much as Rachel would want him to hear her story, she would want him to do his homework first. She had always told him how much she believed in him, and how she believed he could get into a good college. He didn't want her to stop believing in him just because she was dead.
After completing his homework, he picked up the CD player and the ninth CD. He placed in the player and plugged his headphones into his ears. Soon, Rachel's voice filled his ears.
We're all ready nine CDs into my life story! Wow! Amazing, isn't it? Thanks everyone for sticking around. It really means a lot to me. I didn't want to die without you guys knowing why. We're almost done.
This CD was probably the hardest one for me to record, considering all the memories that come along with it. The memories associated with his person made it hard to look him in the eye every day at school.
I'm talking about Artie.
Finn paused the CD, frowning. Had Rachel and Artie been romantically involved, too? He doubted it, but then again, he also doubted the fact that Rachel and Sam were ever dating or that Rachel had actually lost her virginity to Puck. He pressed play and continued listening.
I'm pretty sure Artie doesn't like remembering either. It's why he avoided working with me as much as possible. Memories can serve both as something helpful or something…unhelpful. This memory was unhelpful to both of us, most likely for the same reason.
When we were eight, Artie and I were in the same class. My dads were friends with his mom, and therefore, we became friends, too. Not close like Quinn and I, but close enough to hang out nearly everyday when our parents got together. He was my best guy friend at the time. Because unlike Noah, he was respectful of my feelings.
Remember that at this time, Artie was not in the chair. He was able to walk and run and play just like the rest of us. The accident comes later on.
Finn paused the CD again and frowned as he thought. He remembered Artie mentioning something about an accident when he was eight. He remembered him saying it was the reason he was in the chair today. Could it be that Rachel had somehow been involved with that accident? He pressed play, feeling the tiniest bit guilty when a feeling of curiousity washed over him.
Artie and I loved to play at the park. We had races to see how could slide down all the slides the fastest and then climb back up them. I would always win.
Finn could hear the smile in her voice as she bragged, and it sounded painful.
Our parents would take turns taking us to the parks. After the slide races, their was always something else we would do. Each time we went to the park, it was different. One time, we hung upside on the tire swing together. I remember laughing so painfully hard when Artie's legs gave away and he fell flat on his butt. He did it again, pleased with my reaction, and I laughed even harder.
Because before Artie was quiet and kept to himself, he was quite the class clown. He could make everybody laugh, but I was his favorite audience. I would laugh at nearly anything; I was easily amused. And this Artie took to his advantage.
I'm getting off track. Where was I? Oh yeah; the park. Well, one time, on a cold December night close to my birthday, Artie and I decided to see who could hang upside down from the monkey bars the longest. He won, which put me in a horrible mood. I wouldn't talk to him for the rest of the time we were there. Ms. Abrams, seeing what a brat I was being, decided it was time to go home.
When we made it back to her car, Artie went to climb in on his side. But me being the brat I was pushed him away and told him to sit on the other side. He didn't object; if there was one thing Artie knew, it was not to piss me off. He shuffled quietly over to the other side of the vehicle and climbed in, buckling his seatbelt and staring out the window. I buckled my seatbelt and crossed my arms, staring out my own window. Ms. Abrams let out a tired sigh before starting up the engine and pulling away from the park.
Remember, it was a cold, dark night.
Finn paused the CD, eyes widening. He had been right; Rachel was involved in Artie's accident. He pressed play, starting to feel a little sick.
Ms. Abrams had a hard time seeing where she was going, and I could tell she was getting paranoid as the night grew darker and the cold air blasted through the open windows. She was clutching onto the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white.
Artie complained that he was cold. I opened my mouth to say something to him. Probably some snide remark about closing his window. I don't remember. All I remember is that whatever I wanted to say to him, I never got to say.
There was a pause in the CD and Finn heard Rachel draw in a shaky breath.
A car on the other side of the road swerved suddenly in our direction and hit the car dead on. I'm shuddering as I remember this. The metal of the screamed as it bent in ways it was not meant to bend in. Artie was screaming, Ms. Abrams was sobbing, and I'm pretty sure I was screaming to. As the car swerved off the road, it hit a tree. My head hit something. Hard. I could feel wetness at the back of my head. Blood. I sat there, in a daze, listening to Artie's scream suddenly cut short and Ms. Abrams sob. The blood was soaking through my clothes, and my arm was bent at an awkward angle. My chest hurt, and my vision was beginning to blur. In the distance, I could hear sirens. Help was on the way. But I lost consciousness before the EMT arrived.
I woke up in a hospital a few days later with my dads sitting at my bed and Quinn in the background holding a giant teddy bear I presumed was for me. My dads showered me with kisses, tears spilling down their cheeks, and Quinn shyly handed me the teddy bear, telling me she would visit after dance class. She shuffled out of the room, leaving me with my dads.
I felt groggy, but I couldn't feel that much pain. I had a broken rib, a broken arm, and had suffered from a concussion. I had hit my head pretty hard. I blinked furiously, but no matter how much I blinked, the room remained blurry. I knew my dads could tell. While Daddy was stressing over the injury somehow affecting my vision, Dad reassured me that it was because of the medicine.
It was then I dared to ask about Artie and his mom. Daddy stopped rambling about my vision and became silent. Dad sucked in a deep breath and said Ms. Abrams was fine. Just a few cuts and bruises. She had gotten lucky.
"What about Artie?" I asked. My dads exchanged a look before letting out a sigh. Artie had hurt his back. His spine was broken and he couldn't feel anything from the waist down. He would never, ever walk again.
I started crying. My dads did their best to comfort me, but nothing could be done. My friend would never walk again. I cried myself to sleep and didn't wake up for a while later.
After the doctor assured that my condition was in good shape, he released me from the hospital. My dads and I walked passed Ms. Abrams, who was sitting in the waiting room. I stopped and gave her hug. She started sobbing quietly and hugged me back tighter than I had ever been hugged. I soon pulled away, my own eyes wet with tears, and told her to tell Artie to get better soon. She nodded her head and then we left.
It took quite a few weeks before Artie was back in school. He had insisted on going back earlier then he was supposed to, as he was afraid that because of all his absences, he would have to repeat the fourth grade. I remember the feeling I felt when I walked into school to see Artie desperately trying to get control of his wheel chair as he very shakily rolled down the hallways. Kids were snickering around him, but they grew quiet when they saw me. I walked up to Artie with a big smile on my face and held out my cast, asking him if he could sign it. His gaze met mine, then traveled down to my broken arm, then my legs, to his legs and back to my eyes. And without even giving me an answer, he rolled away faster than I had ever seen him roll before.
I bit my lip to keep from crying. Quinn reassured me that Artie would get over it soon; he was just jealous because I could walk and he couldn't. I believed her for a short while. But after some time passed, I realized that Quinn was wrong. Artie was never going to get over it. He was never going to get over it because I should have been the one in the chair, never to walk again. And I wasn't. I was walking with perfect strides right in front of him, reminding him of what he could've been if he hadn't given into my silly behavior.
On my last day of school before I moved to Dayton, Artie finally came up to me. I felt a wave of hope overcome me; maybe he was coming to apologize. Maybe he was coming to tell me he forgave me and we could still be friends.
But instead, he told me this: "Don't tell anybody you were there." And then he rolled away. I watched him leave and felt one fat tear roll down my cheek. I wasn't even good enough to be a part of the story of how Artie was put in the chair.
I listened to him tell the story multiple times. Never once did he mention me. I wasn't good enough to be a part of a tragic accident.
When we did the 'Proud Mary' number for Artie, I felt what it was like to be in the chair, and I couldn't help but realize that this is what could've been. What should've been. I felt Artie staring at me all week as I struggled to get by. I felt like crying the whole time. There were so many moments where I wanted to apologize; to somehow take back that one stupid choice I had made to give him his legs back.
Maybe I would have lost mine in the process, but who cares?
Either way, I would have ended up like I am today.
Dead.
The CD stopped turning in the player and Finn felt his blood run cold. To think that Rachel had a brush with paralysis made Finn's breaths become shallow. She wouldn't have been the same person if she were stuck in the chair. Finn had a sneaking suspicion that her personality would mimic the Rachel he had seen lately.
All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and wipe away her tears. He wanted her to have let him in to help share and eradicate her pain. He pushed away the thought that maybe that's what she had wanted when she approached him that one time.
But he couldn't hold her. He couldn't wipe away her tears or eradicate her pain. She was gone. She was dead. And all he had left of her were these CDs.
He put the tenth CD in the player.
Makes you curious to know who's the lucky number ten, huh? I'll give you a hint: CD number ten belongs to a female member of New Directions. Except she's not in New Directions in the moment on the TV show…damn you, Troubletones. So what did you all think? Like it? Love it? How many of you missed this story? Can I take a moment to thank you all as well? Only nine chapters and a prologue and 238 reviews? THANK YOU! I mean it when I say I FREAKING LOVE YOU ALL. This is why I love writing: because of you amazing people. Thanks so much and keep the reviews coming! I'll update as soon as I can, which I hope is by this Sunday, but I can't make any promises. Wouldn't it be great if we could set a record for me and get 400 reviews by the end of this story? Like my Facebook page (and check it out to give me ideas and view sneak peeks!), read my other stories (an update on 'In the End, It's Right' and 'The Only Hope for Me is You' will be coming ASAP), and please…REVIEW!