Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“We’re going to leave and let you get some rest.”
Everyone leaves me alone, and I let rest take me. When I wake up again, my mind goes to Vivian. Something in me wants to recall the missing time, but I can’t. What did I do to make her hate me so much? Have I forgotten it so I could forget what I’ve done? Damn it, I’m afraid to ask.
Chapter Six
Simon
Five weeks. I’ve gone through just over one month of therapy, both physical and mental. The hardest part is the day of the accident. Things all seem to be muddled when it comes to that day. Flashes of memories come to mind, but they don’t make any sense. I have no idea what happened.
At this point, it matters because it seems that the person who ran me over is getting away with it. Everyone tells me that the woman who called 911 is the bitch who caused problems between Vivian and me, as if we didn’t have issues to begin with. She claimed to have been on a date with me at first, but the police challenged her, and she backtracked her statement quickly, stating that she was only trying to make Vivian jealous. The bitch pissed me off.
There’s a knock on my door, and my brother ducks his head inside. “Can I come inside?” Eric asks.
“Sure,” I answer with a nod as I adjust my shirt, pulling it down my chest. I’m about to get to work for the first time in so long.
“Jack’s here too.” They both come inside, closing the door behind their dumb asses. My younger brothers are great guys and I don’t know what I’d do without them, but they love to work my nerves.
“So, what’s up?” I can tell this isn’t just a brotherly checkup. Something is on their mind.
“We came to see how you’re doing. How is the PT?”
I scoff because they’re around often enough to see me improving, and I’m betting it’s not my physical therapy they’re here to talk about. “I’m down to two days a week, and I’m going back to the shop today.” I’ve got so many classes to make up. With graduation around the corner, the school has allowed me to handle everything at home with online monitoring, and my teachers will make visits to test me as well. It’s not as if I wasn’t the number one student while attending the program, anyway.
“That’s good. So…um…we wanted to talk to you about Viv,” Jack sputters out. My shoulders tense, and the tightness in my chest expands.
My dad knocks on the door rapidly before coming in and interrupting our conversation, stopping my brothers from telling me about my future wife.
“Come on, Simon, it’s time to go,” my pops calls out.
“I’m coming,” I mutter as he enters my room.
“Boys, you don’t have to hover around your brother. He’s doing a lot better, and he needs to get some work done so he can submit it to his teachers.” That’s the only good thing that came out of this. I have two classes in my final semester: one automotive class that is focusing on motorcycles, which I saved until last, and a final math class. The math one I can take online, and the motorcycle one is mostly online with submitting some of my work from the shop. My father set up a tripod for me to record my workstation. I had a late start to the semester, but they were able to let me slide because my grades are impeccable.
I nod to my brothers and walk gingerly behind my father. My injuries were to my left side. I had a cracked skull and a slice on my face as well as a broken arm and fractures from below my knee to my ankle. The scary part has been the brain bleed and swelling. It led to the two-week coma and then the memory loss. Unfortunately, I still don’t have a clue who ran me over, and what’s worse is that they don’t believe it was an accident, from signs of acceleration.
I head downstairs carefully. Most of my injuries have healed, but it’s just in case I get dizzy. I promised them that I’m nearly a hundred percent, but they aren’t having it. My body aches, but it’s to be expected.
“Before you head out, it’s time for breakfast, Simon,” my mother says. She sets a plate on the table in front of me. “Did you take your medication?” she asks as she lightly brushes her hand through my hair.
“Yes, Mom. I did take it. Thank you for the breakfast. It smells and looks amazing.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” She smiles, but it’s not reaching her eyes. Something is bothering her, and it probably has to do with morning sickness. My parents are adding to the family, which came as a big surprise, so Dad’s extra protective, especially after what happened to me. My mother was a wreck.