"No!" I screamed, the sound of sirens filling my ears.
"No, Bryce!" Your going to stay with me! You'll make it!" Then we were surrounded by men and women in white uniforms... Paramedics. As they lifted Bryce onto a stretcher, I took in the scene around me. My fathers car was upside-down next to a toppled telephone pole twenty feet away. There were people rushing around, debris everywhere, and an ambulance close by. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were raw and bloodied.
"Are you alright?" a young looking paramedic asked me as he knelt down to help me stand up. My lips formed the word "Yes." but no sound would come out so I nodded, dizzily. The paramedic led me to the ambulance and I scrambled inside and grabbed Bryces' hand, our fingers entwining.


* * *
After two weeks, Bryce was still in a coma. I sat in the waiting room, legs twitching, my face red, puffy, and tear streaked. My eyes kept twitching towards the clock until Dr. Myers came in, expressionless. Not a good sign..
I followed the doctor down the hall into room 112. I walked, zombie-like, over to Mrs. Sharold, Bryce's mother, forcing myself not to fling myself onto his body and sob. I hadn't slept since the accident and I didn't know if I could handle the news.
"I am deeply sorry to both of you, but Bryce has died of brain trauma. He hit his head very hard against something when it all occured. Then it was like a silent movie and the wind was cold as it rushed past me. After that, all I remember is thudding against the hard tile floor and everything going black..