Disclaimer: I do not own Alvin and the Chipmunks, the Chipettes, or anything associated with them.

Author's Note: Greetings, my fellow writers! So, a couple of days ago, I made a promise that I would post at least one chapter for one of my stories before I went back to college. Here it is! A brand new chapter for all of you to read and enjoy! Also, like I said before, I'm going back to school soon, so I'll be busy. However, I assure you that I will still write, but only for one story. For the next few months, be on the lookout for updates on The Squeakquel With A Twist! Last thing, before you go on reading, I'm now a beta reader, so for all of you new writers, if you need any help, I would be more than happy to be of assistance. Just send me a message! Okay, enough talk, on with the story!

Chapter Fourteen: Awakening

Brittany's Point of View:

Riding in my mother's ancient hot pink convertible, I stared out towards the neighborhood and watched as houses and little kids playing outside passed by my line of sight. Behind the wheel of the old car was Miss Miller, who was driving me to the hospital to see Alvin. The weather was warm and sunny without a single cloud in the sky, so Miss Miller decided to let the roof down and give both of us a nice, cool breeze to enjoy. The light wind blew the loose strands of my hair everywhere as the house and trees seemed to blend together into one huge and colorful image before my eyes. It really was a nice day, but I just didn't seem to take pleasure in the bright and beautiful day as much as I use to.

I looked away from the blurry picture to my lap and began tugging at the hem of my khaki shorts. I started pulling a loose string from the clothing, thinking that the trip to the hospital was way too quiet. Of course, I didn't expect anything different from the times before when Miss Miller drove me to and from places. Neither of us had been really talkative the past month. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to my mother about my problems…I just didn't know what else I could say to her. I had told her everything and poured out my grief for her nearly a million times. I mean what else was there to say? Short answer, there was nothing really.

Having pulled the string from my shorts, I moved to the hem of my light blue cami shirt, but after a minute, I decided to take a glimpse of her. I shifted my eyes, keeping my head in the same position, and took in her countenance. Wearing her usual attire, a pink skirt, yellow top, and a short-sleeved coat, she looked exactly like a big pink flower. A large poof of hair was at the very top of her head along with a small pink bow, and flashy gold hoops dangled from her earlobes. She had applied the lightest touch of blush on her plump cheeks, dark blue eyes shadow over her tired eyes, and dark pink lipstick on her thin lips. I smiled a little, for even though Miss Miller was a much older woman, she was still very pretty.

Her blue eyes were pasted firmly on the road, which was odd for her considering she could never seem to keep her eyes straight ahead while driving. But, as she aged, she became more aware of her bad habits and starting driving much slower and with more control than she use to, making her a much better and safer driver. It was then that I really drank in her expression. The bags under her eyes and the wrinkles on her face were very noticeable, and she wore a very blank mask on her round face. She seemed to be deep in thought. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about.

Giving up the thought, I shifted my eyes back to my shirt's hem, tugging at it a little longer before looking over the distorted portrait of the neighborhood once more. I let go of my shirt as I allowed my head to fall into my right hand and placed my right elbow in my left hand. Sighing deeply and quietly, I gave my mind permission to wonder and sort through my thoughts again. I found it interesting how most, if not all, of my brain waves seemed to be flowing towards one specific thought, the thought being whether Alvin would ever come out of his coma and whether it would be soon. I hoped and prayed with all of my being that he would pull through and that it would be any day now.

Of course, I was thinking about things as well, as my brain couldn't help but go over the event of earlier this morning over and over like a scratched record on a player. I pictured myself on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as my small body melted down physically and mentally. My mind had pounded hard against my skull, my chest felt as if I had been stabbed with the sharpest and deadliest knife in the kitchen cabinet, and my entire body just shut down to the point where I couldn't even stand anymore. It felt as if I was being dragged down to hell. It had drained me of every last bit of energy I had left in my system.

I shuddered as the feelings crept their way back into me. Not wanting to relive the heartbreak and misery, I quickly changed my train of thoughts and shoved the hurt back into the deep fathoms of my subconscious. After securing the unwanted sorrow, I soon started thinking about my decision to see a psychiatrist. My nerves started to tingle as second thoughts poked through my mind like needles to a pincushion. Would seeing a complete stranger really help me feel better? Would this stranger truly understand my pain? Would he or she understand how it felt to lose the one he or she loved?

My lips pressed together into hard line as I continued contemplating my choice. More and more questions popped into my head, and I clenched my eyes tightly, knowing I didn't have a single answer for any of them. But, if there was one thing I knew for sure, I was in too deep to continue going on living my days in a miserable haze. I needed serious help as soon as possible. Otherwise, my tiny seed of depression would grow into a huge tree of despair and grief, at which time I would end up physically hurting myself.

Opening my eyes, I took in another deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly through my mouth. My upper body slumped in defeat, for I knew I had no other options or alternatives for improving my mental health. Talking out my issues and worries to a psychiatrist was really the only way I would survive this painful ordeal. I couldn't deny that I needed the therapy any longer. I had to do it. I had to not only for my mother and sisters…but for the Sevilles…and for the man I loved.

"Brittany, dear?" I heard Miss Miller say behind me.

I jumped a little, startled by her voice and by the fact my mother was talking to me after the long silence between us. After calming down, I mumbled, without turning to look at her, "Hmm?"

"Your sisters told me what happened this morning," she said.

My body tensed immediately upon hearing those words. My sisters told her I broke down on the floor and blubbered like a baby? Well, this was just great! Miss Miller was worried enough about my health, and now, she was probably mortified and scared to death for me! Thanks a lot, girls! This was the last thing I needed put on my plate!

Dropping my arm and looking back down to my lap, I watched my hands begin to fidget like crazy as I tried to conjure up the decent response for my mother. When my mind drew a blank, all I could seem to say was, "Miss Miller…I…I…"

Miss Miller cut me off by say, "I'm very proud for you for what you did, Brittany."

As soon as the sentence reached my ears and entered my brain, I suddenly lost my ability to speak as my eyes bulged out of their sockets. I turned my head to look at Miss Miller, finding her body in the same position as before. Her hands were firmly pasted to the wheel as she stared out towards the road, wary of traffic and pedestrians. Diverting my attention away from her stiff stance, my mind brought me back to what she had said about me. Was it my imagination, or did my mother say she was proud of me?

"M-Miss Miller…" I stuttered, "I…you…what did you say?"

"I said I'm proud of you, dear," she repeated.

Another pause came between us once more as I turned away from Miss Miller and lip-synced the words again and again in an effort to make sense of them. I knew I hadn't been imagining them, but after mouthing them for the hundredth time, I still couldn't believe it. After all, why would she be proud of me? I had done nothing to make her proud. All I had done this past month was mope around and cry myself to sleep at night. Call me crazy, but that definitely wasn't the way to make someone proud.

Shaking my head lightly, I said, "Miss Miller…I don't understand…how could I have…"

"Your sisters told about your decision to see a therapist," my mother said interrupting me once more. "Sweetheart, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see you finally make an effort to help yourself."

"What?" I asked skeptically as I lifted my head back up. "Really?"

"Of course! Brittany, you would be surprised by how many people suffering from depression have chosen not to receive any help. I know how hard Alvin's condition has affected you, but I don't want his hospitalization to take you down a dark path. I was so worried that I would lose my baby to an awful disorder."

Listening to Miss Miller's words, I instantly felt sick. My chest tied itself into dozens upon dozen of knots, and my stomach churned madly. I seriously thought I was going to puke my guts out. Though I knew my behavior was hurting Miss Miller, I had no idea how much it had tortured her on the inside. Looking away, I couldn't help but feel awful for causing Miss Miller so much pain.

"But today, you showed your inner strength," she continued. "Today, you had a breakthrough. You realized that you had a problem, and now, you are attempting to get better. Making such a grown up decision takes a lot of courage, and it makes me proud to see your desire to change."

Letting my mother's wise and caring speech soak into my system, I closed my eyes and created a mental picture of the morning's events. Going through every little detail, I knew Miss Miller had a point. The whole time since Alvin's admission to the hospital, I had kept my feelings inside a tiny glass bottle inside my mind and had set it adrift along the farthest seas of my mind. Looking back on that choice, I finally comprehended that bottling my emotions never solved anything.

Soon, my stomach no longer ached, and my chest no longer felt tight and constricted. I grinned a little, happy that Miss Miller helped me to understand how my old decision was destroying me and how my new one was saving me.

"Thank you, Miss Miller," I smiled, "for showing me how wrong I had been for the past few weeks."

I could hear the cheerful yet thoughtful tone in her voice as she said, "Remember, sweetheart. Strength isn't running away from your problems; it's facing them head on and fixing them."

With those final insightful words, the rest of the ride to the hospital was spent in silence. My smile never faltered as I felt a great warmth build within me. The power felt so good, and I loved how I didn't feel so helpless anymore. It was an incredible feeling…but I couldn't help but wonder…how long would my newfound strength last before I crawled back into my shell once more? Was this only a temporary feeling? Would I lose my strength just when I had finally found it?

I immediately pushed aside the thoughts just as Miss Miller pulled up to the sliding glass entrance of Winchester Memorial Hospital. She pulled up close to the curb and started pressing her foot on the brake pedal, and by the sound of the obnoxious screeching I knew the brakes were long overdue for fixing. As the old automobile came to a complete stop, I reached down to the floor and picked up my little pink purse sitting by my feet.

I opened the passenger side door swiftly, and I slung my purse over my shoulder when Miss Miller said, "Remember to call when you're ready to come home, dear."

"I will," I replied as I got to my feet and turned on my heels.

After exiting the car, I slammed the door shut and watched as my mother put the car back in drive and made her way down the hospital's designated driving area. She drove all the way around the parking lot and soon made it back onto the road, quickly checking both sides before merging into the light traffic. Once she disappeared from my line of sight, I gradually turned around and looked above me to see, in plain white uppercase letters, "Winchester Memorial Hospital." Without noticing my actions, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Closing my eyes, I took in a very deep breath, held it for about five seconds, and let it out little by little in an effort to calm my bundled nerves. When I opened my eyes again, I whispered silently to myself, "Be strong…don't let your strength disappear…don't let fear take over again…be strong…"

I played back the words in my head over and over as I placed my right foot first and made my way towards the glass doors. The sliding doors opened with a quiet "whoosh," and I entered the hospital without hesitation, determined not to stop until I reached the elevators. Caught off guard once more by the bright, rectangular lights installed in the ceiling, I dropped my arms from my shoulders and shielded my eyes using the back of my right hand to keep them from blinding my vision. When my eyes finally adjusted, I let my hand drop to my side as I looked around and took in the all too familiar scenery.

From top to bottom, the hospital's main colors were anything but cheerful. The walls were painted as white as a piece of paper, and the ceiling and floors, though also white, had small speckles of gray and black. Bleak was, without a doubt, the principal theme of the place, as there was absolutely nothing joyful or positive about the decoration and home improvement of the building itself.

I hurriedly walked down the long desolate hallway and entered the open reception and waiting area. I looked around the room filled with gray and drab furniture and potted plants to find it almost completely empty. In fact, the only person there was the dark haired receptionist herself, wearing a nice white and gray outfit. Well, wasn't that nice? She made the hospital look more dreary and miserable than before.

After walking across the room and avoiding the intimidating stare of the receptionist, I soon reached the elevator and pushed the "up" arrow hard, waiting impatiently for the doors to open. The doors finally opened thirty long and agonizing seconds later, and once inside, I quickly pushed the button that would take me to the fourth floor. Slowly closing, the metal elevator doors collided with each other to produce a loud "clank," and before I could even blink, the small box lifted up and headed for the top floor.

I tapped my foot lightly against the floor of the elevator as it continued climbing higher and higher towards my awaited destination. Rubbing my left arm with my right hand, I looked up to the top of the metal doors and watched as the floor numbers flashed in bright red. With each new number popping up on the tiny screen, a sharp stinging pain ran through my chest. I recognized the feeling as it continued pulsating throughout my system.

At once, I began repeating my "inner strength" mantra, trying to keep fear from washing over me like a tidal wave. I didn't want to be afraid anymore. I didn't want to come here, scared to death to learn that I had lost the most important person in the world. I didn't want to be afraid of never again feeling his strong arms around my body or of never again receiving protection from my knight in shining armor.

I was so sick and tired of being scared all the time, but today, I wasn't going to let fear take advantage of me. I was going to be brave no matter what happened. Whether Alvin woke up or not, I would be by his side, watching over him and taking care of him as he continued to heal. I was not going to leave him…not now…not ever.

Without realizing, the elevator doors had opened, indicating that I had reached the fourth floor. I limply dropped my arms to my side and walked out of the elevator, listening to the metal doors "clank" behind me. I slowly made my way down the white hallway, finding that the entire floor was buzzing with activity. It seemed like everywhere I turned, there were dozens of nurses walking around the fourth floor, wearing a variety of colored scrubs and stethoscopes and entering different rooms to either check the patients' IV fluid bags or help them eat their lunch.

I continued my long, treacherous journey down the crowded hallway, hoping I wouldn't bump into the busy bees that were working intensely on their hive, and after walking a few more feet, I reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner to arrive at the small reception desk currently run by two nurses, one sitting right in front of me and the other sitting on my left side. They were each working on their own set of paperwork, both completely absorbed in the different forms signed by various doctors, nurses, and visitors. I coughed loudly in order to capture either of the nurses' attention. The woman in front of me looked up from her paper work and smiled brightly, and I gave her a warm smile in return when I realized it was Alvin's assigned nurse, Helen Boatwright.

Helen, in her late thirties, had short, wavy brown hair and bangs that framed her slim, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a deep forest green, which were brought out by the light application of eyeliner and mascara. Dark brown freckles covered her cheeks as well as the bridge of her small nose. She wore a dark pink lipstick on her thin lips to match her scrubs, and though she was an older woman, she didn't look a day over thirty.

Whenever I came by to visit Alvin, Helen would always be the first person I saw. She was a kind, sweet, and very optimistic person. She loved to smile and be happy, and more than anything, she wanted to make others happy. "That's why I became a nurse," she had said. "Not only did I want to help people, I wanted to help take their mind off of their medical situations and help them see the bright side of things." Needless to say, she really grew on me, and it didn't take long for us to become good friends.

Aside from being one of the sweetest women I've ever met, Helen also had very keen senses, enabling her to feel when someone was upset. From the first day I visited the hospital, she knew I was having a hard time dealing with Alvin's condition. I knew by the sullen look on her face that she knew something very awful had happened not just to Alvin, but to me as well. In fact, that very same day, she offered me her ears if I felt I needed someone to vent to. However, I respectfully declined the offer, for at the time, I wasn't ready to talk to anyone about my feelings, not even to such a wonderful woman as Helen.

"Well, hello there, Miss Brittany," she greeted merrily as she grabbed a brown clipboard from under a stack of papers. "I expected to see you an hour ago. After all, you're usually waiting to visit fifteen minutes before hours start."

Helen placed the clipboard on top of the reception desk along with a black ink pen. I knew the drill: look over the form, fill out the necessary information, and sign on the dotted line. It was required that all visitors sign a form stating whom they were visiting and how long they planned to visit.

As I begin filling out the form, I returned Helen's friendly salutation by saying politely, "Good afternoon, Helen. It's good to see you. I overslept this morning, so I ran late getting here."

"Well, that's perfectly fine, dear," she answered with a wave of her hand. "We all deserve to sleep in a little, especially on the weekends."

Mumbling a short response, I rapidly scribbled my name at the bottom of the black-printed paper and slid the clipboard across the desk. I handed the pen back to Helen as she took the clipboard in her hand and placed her pen into her colorfully decorated "World's Greatest Mom" tin can.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Brittany?" she asked curiously, pulling back the clip of the clipboard to retrieve the form. "Are you doing well?"

I hesitated for only a second as I struggled to find the right words to describe my mood. I wanted to be honest with her, but I knew I couldn't tell her I was "great" or "dandy." In the end, all I could say was, "I'm…fine."

Giving her my answer, I watched as Helen took the signed form from the clipboard and replaced it with a new one. She eyed me skeptically as she placed the brown clipboard inside her desk, took the form I had just signed and placed it with another pile of signed forms. I could tell by the doubtful look in her green eyes that she didn't know whether to believe me or not. However, she didn't press forward on the matter and soon started getting back to work organizing the different mounds of paper.

A long pause came between us as I watched Helen sort through the forms and papers. I sighed silently, knowing for a fact she knew I wasn't telling the truth. For her, sensing unhappiness was like having a sixth sense. She could instantly tell from the look in your eye that you were sad, but she already knew I didn't want to talk to her about my feelings, which was why she didn't ask me anymore questions.

I cleared my throat again, grabbing Helen's attention once more. She held a signed visitor's form in her hand as she stared curiously into my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I mustered up all of the courage I had left in my system to ask her the one question nagging at the back of my mind the moment I entered the fourth floor.

"How is he today?" I asked hastily, not even realizing how fast I had said the words until I had finished my question.

With a small sigh, Helen put down the form she had been holding in her hand onto the top of the pile she had been looking through. When she looked at me, I could tell by the sullen look in her eyes that she would not be bringing me any good news.

"Well," she began, "when I checked on him early this morning, his last few cuts and bruises had finally healed up. I had to change his IV bag as well. His breathing is slow, but still relatively normal…I think for the condition he's in, he's doing very well."

So many great things came out of Helen's mouth, but unfortunately, the only thing I could hear was the little voice in my head, telling me that Alvin still hadn't woken up yet. Once again, I could feel my strength diminish as my head dropped downward. Before long, I was staring at the top of the white desk, feeling my stomach twist into double knots and my chest constricting as if a boa constrictor had a good grip around my heart and was getting tighter and tighter as I thought about how Alvin still ran the risk of dying.

I balled up my right hand, which was still laying on the counter, in an attempt to forget about the pain. Then, out of the blue, I felt something warm over my right hand. I looked to find Helen grasping my fist. I didn't really understand why, but her touch helped to relieve the pain I felt growing inside me.

I relaxed the tension in my hand and looked back up at Helen as she said quietly, "Have faith, sweetheart. Miracles can and do happen. Just leave your troubles to the Lord, and everything will work out. Alvin will wake up soon, just don't give up on faith."

Listening to Helen's words, I swiftly felt the pain begin to melt away from within me. With the knots undone and the snake chased off, my inner strength soon came back, and I found myself smiling down upon the wise and incredibly brilliant nurse. For someone working in a depressing hospital, Helen sure did know the right things to say to make someone feel better.

After receiving a returning smile, Helen slowly let go of my hand and went back to her unorganized stack of papers. I backed away from the desk and said a quick goodbye to Helen, which she replied with a quick and polite nod. I, then, made my way to Alvin's hospital room, which wouldn't take too long to reach because his room was right at the end of the next hallway.

I walked away from the reception desk and down the new hallway, finding there weren't as many nurses as there were before. One nurse in dark blue scrubs carried a folder full of medical records and hurried walked by me on her way to the reception desk. Another wearing purple scrubs walked out of one of the hospital rooms, holding a bag full of dark red liquid, which I knew the minute I saw it was blood. I covered my mouth at once to prevent myself from throwing up as she walked passed me.

Once she was gone, I pulled my hand away and started rubbing my stomach, hoping the queasiness I felt would go away, which did after a couple of seconds of deep breathing. A few steps later, I took my hand away from my belly and looked up to see Alvin's room number. I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared mindless at the black numbers nailed to the wall, and my stomach turned into a pretzel yet again. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and this time, I knew it wasn't from the blood I saw earlier.

Losing my balance, I reached out towards the wall and caught myself before I had a chance to fall flat on my face. I rubbed my right temple in order to ease the wooziness and ache I felt, but I knew the pain would be hard to get rid of once I entered the room. I took in a huge gulp of air and let it out slowly in an attempt to keep myself together.

"Come on, Brittany," I whispered to myself. "You've done this bunches of times. You can handle another. Just remember what Miss Miller told you. You're stronger than you believe you are. Just be strong…be strong…"

Repeating my mantra for the second or third time, I lifted myself from the wall and straightened up my posture. Then, lifting my head up high, I picked up my right foot and stepped forward, turning the doorknob and opening the door as I did so. I slowly walked through the doorway and closed the door behind me, looking at the first bed to find it empty. Before, an elderly man had laid upon the bed, recovering from a minor heart attack. He was a sweet old man, always talking about his two children and six grandchildren and how proud he was of each of them.

I smiled a little, thinking how nice it was that he finally recovered and left to return to his family. But, my smile soon went away as I walked towards the last bed in the corner of the room, Alvin's bed. If only he would recover, so he could return home to his brothers…and come back to me. I swallowed hard as I finally caught a glimpse of the chipmunk laying in the last little hospital bed, wrapped up snuggly in the thin white sheets.

I gradually walked over to Alvin's bed and finally stopped at the foot of it, looking over his condition for the thousandth time. Though the bruises and cuts had healed and the nurses were putting nutrients into his system, he still looked sickly pale and very boney. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose to help keep his breathing going, and a needle, connecting to a thin tube leading to an IV fluid bag, was stuck in his left hand. His face looked so thin that I could see his cheekbones protruding out and his eyeballs sinking into his eye sockets. I barely recognized him he was so tiny.

Feeling the brim of my eyelids water up, I quickly looked away and closed my eyes. That didn't stop the light tears from falling down my cheeks. God, I hated seeing Alvin like that, so helpless and almost lifeless. Every time I looked at him, I was reminded of that night; the night we shared our first kiss…the night he gave his life to protect me…the night I lost him.

I clenched my eyes tighter, feeling a sharp pain stab me in the gut, which I knew was the feeling of guilt. Reliving that night, I just couldn't help but think that everything had been because of me…because of my stubbornness and my unwillingness to listen to my own heart. Damn it…I had really screwed up that night…but I knew I couldn't keep beating myself up over it. I told my family I would get better, and if I wanted to keep my inner strength going, I knew I had to stop blaming myself for what happened.

Opening my tear-filled eyes, I looked back at Alvin, knowing what he would have wanted me to do if he were able to talk to me. He would want me to let go of the past and tell me that it didn't matter what happened to him as long as I was happy and alive. After all, it could have been me lying in that bed instead of Alvin, though a part of me wished it were me. I huffed lightly as I wiped the tears from my eyes, thinking how odd it was Alvin and I cared so much for each other now, yet at eight years old, we couldn't stand to be in the same room together. I guess the old saying was true; growing up can really change a person's attitude.

I shook my head of the old memories as I walked over to small white table in the corner of the room and placed my purse down on top of it. Grabbing one of the white chairs at the table, I slid it over the hard white floor leaving black streaks in the tile. Then, I placed the chair next to Alvin's bed and took a seat, reaching over and taking his right hand in my own. I flinched a little when I felt how cool it was compared to the warmth of mine.

"Hey, Alvin," I said with a slight smile. "How are you doing today?"

I knew it seemed a little odd to talk to Alvin like he were awake, but I had to try to get through to him somehow. I wanted to get some kind of response out of him. I wanted to know that he was still in there and that he could here me. However, considering he made no movement or noise, I was beginning to feel that my talking to him was a ridiculous idea, doubting that the chipmunk could hear me at all. But, despite the lack of communication, I continued speaking to him.

"The same?" I asked. "Yeah, me too. I had that dream again. You know, the one I told you about a while ago? The one about you not being there to save me?"

Alvin still hadn't moved or given any acknowledgement of my presence as I went on, "Yeah, well, I had it again. This stupid dream has been keeping me up almost every night. I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks."

I squeezed Alvin's hand tighter in an effort to keep it warm. He continued to lie in the bed motionless, his breathing quiet and slow through the oxygen mask. Nevertheless, I kept the conversation going.

"Guess what, Alvin? I've decided to see a psychiatrist. My sisters helped me with the decision this morning, and to be honest, I'm glad I'm finally getting help. I've been in way over my head for so long that I was beginning to drown under the pressure. This situation is…just too hard to handle by myself anymore."

A single tear ran down my left cheek as I traced a small circle against the skin of Alvin's index finger. I brought my hand up from my lap and wiped the tear away, getting myself together before the pain took over me again. I quickly changed the subject, though I knew it wouldn't matter, as there was still a great chance that my words were just wasted breath and were not helping the situation in the least. Yet for the sake of my sanity, I kept talking.

"You know, Alvin? Yesterday, after I came home from seeing you, I started thinking about the time we had that huge fight. I mean of course, being stubborn as we both are, we fought all the time, but this fight we had…it was different from the ones we've had before. To be honest, I don't really remember what we were fighting about. All I remember was…feeling angry towards you and offended and upset by some of the things you said to me…by the names you called me."

I paused for a moment, picturing the furious look on Alvin's face as he bared his teeth, furrowed his brows evilly, and growled hatefully. I remember how he sneered multiple names in my direction. I remember him calling me a bitch…it was the first time he ever called me that. After he called me a few more bad names, I stomped my way back home in order to keep myself from pouncing on him like a hungry cougar.

"It's funny…I really thought our friendship was over that day…that we would never speak to each other again. But, after I had calmed down and talked it out with my sisters, I felt terrible about the whole fight. I decided to go over to your house and apologize. I know it sounds crazy, considering I never apologize to anyone…but…I guess the reason I wanted to apologize was because…I didn't want to lose my best friend."

Taking a short break from my reminiscing, I breathed in the intoxicating scent of saline and antiseptic cream. I heaved out the breath, coughing a little from the overwhelming stench. God, I really hated the smell of medical supplies.

"Anyway, when I made it to your house, I saw you sitting on the porch steps playing your guitar. You didn't really notice me there until I sat down beside you. I was about to apologize when you stopped me and said you wanted to play a song for me. That song…was so beautiful…I knew when I heard it that I would never forget it."

I smiled a little and tightened my grip around Alvin's hand, letting the words to the song he sang to me so long ago come to my mind, and before long, I found myself singing the song.

Can you forgive me again?

I don't know what I said

But I didn't mean to hurt you

I heard the words come out

I felt that I would die

It hurt so much to hurt you

After finishing the first couple of stanzas of the song, I suddenly felt pressure coming from my right hand, which at the moment happened to be around Alvin's. What the heck? Why is there pressure in my hand? I looked down to my hand, hoping to see what was causing the pressure. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I realized Alvin was squeezing back. I watched as he clutched my hand even more, completely shocked and overwhelmed. Oh my God, could he actually hear me singing? Was he finally waking up after an entire month of unconsciousness? Finding the place I left off, I began singing again mentally praying that today would finally be the day.

Then you look at me

You're not shouting anymore

You're silently broken

I'd give anything now

To kill those words for you

Alvin's grip tightened before my eyes, and I couldn't help the smile that began to form at the corners of my mouth. Hoping to see more activity, I looked up towards the chipmunk's face even more excited to see his eyebrows twitching slightly. It was working! The singing was really working! Damn it! Had I know singing would have helped him to wake up I would have done it a long time ago! I mentally slapped myself and quickly began the next few stanzas boldly.

Each time I say something I regret I cry "I don't want to lose you."

But somehow I know that you will never leave me, yeah.

'Cause you were made for me

Somehow I'll make you see

How happy you make me

Watching Alvin's head start to move from side to side and his brows twitch even more, I knew in my heart that he would wake up any second. By the scrunched look on his face, he seemed very determined to wake up. That's it, Alvin! You're almost there! You can do it! Don't give up! I sang the ending stanzas with as much passion as I could muster, belting out the words so I knew Alvin would hear my voice.

I can't live this life

Without you by my side

I need you to survive

So stay with me

You look in my eyes and I'm screaming inside that I'm sorry.

And you forgive me again

You're my one true friend

And I never meant to hurt you

Once I finished the song, a soft groan escaped from his lips, which gave me all that I needed to be sure that he was finally coming out of the darkness and back into the light. I watched in awe as his eyes started to flutter open. For about one second, he opened his eyes completely, but he closed them back again, probably shocked by the bright lights in the room. Wow, he was almost there!

"Alvin?" I asked unbelievably.

He let out a louder groan as he, for a second time, opened his eyes wide. He blinked a few times in order to let his eyes adjust to the light, which was understandable taking into account that he'd been in the dark for a while and hadn't seen such bright lights in a long time. I stood up from the chair with a huge smile pasted on my face. I smiled so hard that my cheeks started to ache, but I didn't care. I was just happy to see those big, beautiful ocean blue eyes again.

Laying my head down on his chest on and wrapping my arms around him carefully, I cried joyfully, "Oh, my God…you're awake. You're actually awake. You have no idea how long I've waited to see you open your eyes again."

Alvin let out another moan before speaking for the first time in a month. His voice was a little scratchy and hoarse through the oxygen mask, but that was reasonable as well. "Where…where am I?"

I lifted my head from his chest and wiped the tears of joy from my eyes with the back of my hand. I turned my head down to look at him, noticing he hadn't looked at me and had his eyes fixed to the ceiling. "You're in the hospital. You've been out of it for a while, but you've pulled through it and you're alive…you're here, and you're alive."

I kept my smile as I placed my hand on the side of Alvin's face. Using my thumb, I caressed his cheekbone gently, surprised yet excited about how much warmer his skin felt. Alvin, having felt the touch of my hand, turned his head to look at me. He stared into my eyes for what felt like forever, and I could instantly feel my heart melt with happiness. I haven't felt so complete in my entire life, and looking into those perfect blue eyes, I knew I never wanted to be apart from the chipmunk anymore.

Staring lovingly at the best person in the world, I waited patiently for him to speak once more, expecting to hear him say how much he loved me and how sorry he was for everything that happened. I was so plagued with gladness that I hadn't even noticed his furrowed brow. Then, when he finally spoke, nothing could have prepared me for the question that came out of his mouth.

"Who…who are you?"

The moment those words left his lips, my entire body froze, every muscle inside me tensing from shock. Forcing my arm to move, I took it away from his face, and the corners of my mouth loosened. My smile turned into a confused frown as I looked into his eyes. If Alvin's trying to make me laugh, he was doing a really lousy job at it. I mean what kind of sick, twisted joke was he trying to pull?

"Alvin, stop kidding around," I said seriously. "You've been gone for a long time, and I've missed you like crazy."

"Coma?" he asked me, his brow furrowing more. "What the heck are you talking about? How do you know my name? How could you miss me if I've never seen you before?"

My eyes grew to an immeasurable size as I backed away from the bed. After taking three steps back, I said, "Alvin, I told you to stop that. It's not funny."

"Again, how is it that you know my name?" the chipmunk asked again.

It was then that Alvin's questions were really starting to scare me. Was he seriously asking who I was and how I knew his name? He couldn't be serious. He's known me for years. We shared classes together. We stayed up late watching scary movies together. We spent our weekends together; granted most of them were spent fighting and bickering. He just couldn't have forgotten all of the time we spent together…could he?

"Alvin…it's me…Brittany Miller," I said desperately. "You've known me since elementary school…we've been friends for years…don't you remember me? Don't you recognize me? Come on, Alvin…you know me."

Alvin stared at me for a full minute, giving me a look as if saying, "This chick is out of her mind." The look was so intense that I actually cringed a little, hurt that he would even think I was insane. Then, he said, "Um…look…I don't know if you're just hallucinating all of that or if you're just crazy…but I'm telling you, I have no idea who you are. I've never met you in my life, and I don't know anyone by that name."

With those words, my heart broke in two. All of my strength…my happiness…it all vanished after hearing Alvin say he has never seen me before. Pain ran through my veins as my legs turned into jello. I leaned against the bed frame for support as my brain pounded hard and fast against my skull, and my chest felt as if it had been slashed multiple times. I looked at the confused chipmunk, never before feeling so heartbroken in my entire life. Damn, if I thought Alvin being in a coma was the worst thing to have happened, I was dead wrong.

I just couldn't believe it. How could Alvin forget all of the times we've shared? How could he forget his best friend? How hard did that son of a bitch, Colin, hit him? Mixing in with the pain, anger built up within me. God, I hate that jackass! Not only did he take Alvin away from me, but he also turned a, what was supposed to be, happy reunion into another one of my worst nightmares! He ruined my life!

With all of the strength I had left, I stepped back from the bed and ran out of the room. As I ran down the hallway, I prayed to God, I shouted to the Lord above, I begged and pleaded with my heart and soul for Alvin's memory to return. Please, God…don't take Alvin away from me. Please, let him remember me…let him remember…