Everyone was moving so fast they became a messy blur. Or maybe they blurred because I was crying enough to give a third world country water to last. I felt foolish, but my leg hurt so much that all I wanted to do was to scream and pull my hair, but two warm, strong hands held mine in place, and I was too nauseated to open my mouth. I tried to dry my eyes after a few minutes, but my arms were still wrapped in the searing grip encased mine like iron. That bugged me. Blinking rapidly I managed to fight back the waterworks that threatened to spill over again and again. In the background I heard Jared on the phone. At least I thought it was him. Suddenly someone or something touched my leg and I bit back a scream refusing to appear weak, growling instead. The iron grip loosened a little, before it tightened again. Sam was somewhere nearby whispering words of comfort, but I blocked it out together with the pain. It was easier that way. My nose was runny, and treacherous, fresh tears rolled down my face, soaking my best friend's, Sara's, blue striped jumper. She was going to have my head and maybe my new Rascal Flatts CD. Someone –maybe Doc- nudged my leg again, though this time more tentatively. The pain flared up again, making me see dancing spots of colour, but I noticed it was subsiding slightly. I suspected foul play, namely drugs. My suspicion was confirmed when I all of a sudden felt really tired; like I'd been without sleep for days whilst running a marathon. The throbbing in my leg that earlier felt like a thousand living drums having a fiesta, had now faded into a dull ache. I leaned backwards into a very hot, hard pillow. I was surprised to say the least. The feeling of being closely examined, like a germ under a microscope, suddenly hit me. Before I managed to open my eyes to complain the drugs took the final leap, pulling me into a deep slumber.
When I woke again the first thing I noticed was that I couldn't feel my leg. I sighed quietly, content. The second thing was that I was still leaning against a warm, hard something. I turned my head a tiny bit, trying not to draw any attention myself. That plan backfired the moment I saw what I had believed was an unusual pillow. It was Sam. And he was looking at me with true concern in his eyes. Did i really look that bad? Was the wound really that bad? A sudden cold fear swept through my body, paralyzing it. Did I have to amputate? I wanted so bad to see for myself but Sam's iron grip was back again.
"Phoebe! Phoebe? Are you ok?" He sounded tired. Had he been here all night? How long had I been out? What had happened? Did we have firewood? I felt extremely disorientated. With an annoyingly groggy voice I tried to placate him so maybe I could get my questions answered.
"I'm fine, Sam. Nothing is wrong..." He looked at me like I'd grown an extra head. "Besides my leg I'm fit as a fiddle. What time is it? How's my leg?" I stifled an enormous yawn and the need of a good stretch. I tried to sit up and this time he let me out of his vice grip. I rubbed my wrists and mock glared at him. Sam did not smile. The concern was still there in his eyes. I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair.
"Sam, I'm fine. I really can't feel anything at all." I gestured to my leg. My voice sounded sincere and I blinked when I figured I was. Sam looked at me for a little while longer before he too sighed. He knew I wasn't lying but that still didn't keep him from concluding that I shouldn't be overly careful. Sam in a nutshell, I thought.
Half an hour later I was in the kitchen eating breakfast, my left foot propped awkwardly up on the extra chair. Sam had left fifteen minutes ago, about five minutes after my parents found me awake, and much to their happiness in no obvious pain. Somehow they had still managed to make a lot of fuss, almost as if I'd been 5 years again and scraped my knee. Stroking of hair, praise on how brave I was, concern about my leg, and so on and so forth. I put on my biggest most reassuring smile, eating my pancakes in blissful silence. They were wonderful as always. Things quieted for a while which was nice. I'd never liked being in the centre of attention. It gave me the heebie-jeebies. So did the thought that I had used all my bad luck, and hacked my leg nearly in to the bone. I had to be the clumsiest, most prone to life-threatening idiocy, insane human in the world – apart from my father who gave me the unlucky genes-. Fortunately someone up there liked me because my leg was going to heal up nice. I swallowed my sixth pancake when someone knocked on the door.
I already knew who was behind the door long before mum opened it. It was my four best friends; Sara, Jacob, Embry, and Quil. We'd met each when were crawling around in diapers, and had hung out together just about every day since. They stormed in through the door, Quil with a football in his hands, throwing loud "hellos" at my parents who were shaking their heads, smiling. Sara stopped dead in her tracks when she saw my awkward position. She always knew when something was wrong, and my guess was that she'd been tossing and turning all night. I eyed the dark circles under her eyes warily and she stared at me with disbelief. The boys however were in a cheerful mood and didn't catch on as fast. They each grabbed a pancake, and plonked themselves down on any available surface they could find. The kitchen was a mess as usual, always buried in stacks of books, piles of homework assignments or mail and dirty crockery. Embry pushed a rather big cluster of old bills to the floor before sitting on the only available chair of the three in the kitchen. He sat there munching happily scrutinizing my tired face when he too noticed.
"What the hell happened to you?" He stared at my leg with horror in his eyes. "Did someone come at you with an axe? How did this happen? When did this happen? Oh my God, this is crazy! Are you hurt? Where's the Doc? I'm going to kill whoever did this to you! Are you-" He was cut off short with a hard smack to the back of his head by Sara, who smiled despite the situation. I looked up at her and smiled too before I turned to answer Embry's multitude of questions. "I'm fine and dandy, just peachy. I can't feel a thing. And actually you're not that far from the truth. It was an axe but it was me and my fault alone."
I turned around sharply when I heard a muted thud that was followed my many smaller ones. Sleep deprivation made me jumpy. Embry and Jake reminded me of that at regular intervals. Quil had dropped the football and both he and Jake looked at me in shock. Jake's voice was relatively calm, I'd give him that much, but he couldn't hide the twisted grimace forming on his face.
"You managed to hit yourself in the leg with an axe?" Incredulity dripped of every word. From an outsider's point of view, I mused; it could be seen as something very unbelievable. Fortunately for me though, Jake was no outsider. I smiled meekly and nodded.
"Yeah, dad called over Sam and a friend of his, Jared, and they were going to help chop some firewood. I needed money and thought I could get away with maybe sorting big chunks from the small, but dad had his own ideas. He put an axe in my cursed hands and the rest is history." The room was silent but I could feel the tension disappear. Quil suddenly burst into laughter.
"You actually... managed to chop your... leg?" The other three smiled broadly knowing I wasn't on my deathbed. I huffed. "Glad I amuse you, git" He sobered up quickly. "You promise you're not in pain?" He backed away with an amused grin at my failed attempt at a death glare. "I'm p-e-r-f-e-c-t. Do I have to spell it out for you?"
"Ehm..." Jake chuckled. "You just did." I gave him a failed death glare too.
The gang stayed for dinner, and talked loudly all evening about the football game they had played in the backyard. Jake and Sara had floored poor Em and Quil. Quite literally too, Quil was still rubbing his sore knee. The boys, being the gentleman they were, had carried me out so I could sit and watch, and referee. None of us ever played a fair game against each other. It was part of the fun rolling around in the grass laughing, whilst calling each other the silliest names we could think of. All in all it had been a wonderful evening, I thought as said goodbye to the boys. Sara was going to spend the night and I was overly happy. No more parental stress. I was carried to my bed and to stay in it until tomorrow so there was no usual pillow fight, but instead we thought of different ways to make a spoof of the incident and post in on YouTube