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One Shot [Part 2]
It was raining outside as I drove down a service road, going home from the game. My mom is chattering about her job, having already talked about the game. She is a professional cake baker. Her cakes are amazing. The cake melts in your mouth when you take a bite, and the frosting isn’t too sweet like the cheap Wal-Mart brand. It’s definitely as close to heaven as you’ll ever get.
“Mom, do you have your seat belt on?” I asked. She never wore it.
“Of course, darling,” she answered as she reached up to pull it down.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the truck. I slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel, trying to prevent getting hit. The car, being in cruise, which was a mistake already since you shouldn’t drive in cruise in the rain, swerved and turned in a complete circle. I jerked the wheel the other way, and saw the front of the truck hit my mom’s side of the car.
I heard my mom scream. I turned to look at her, and then felt the car lift off the ground, and then I slipped into blackness.
I woke up in a hospital. The room smelled like medicine. The walls were a light green color. It looked disgusting. I hate the smell of medicine. Then, I saw my legs. They were completely covered in white plaster. I struggled to sit up, not exactly making it, as the door opened.
“Hello, Aiden,” said the doctor as he breezed through the door. “I see you’re awake. How are you?”
“Where is my mother? What happened to my legs? How long have I been in here?” I asked, hurriedly.
“We’ll answer your questions sho—“
“No! Tell me, now!” I was yelling, beginning to panic. If my legs were in casts, how was my mother? The truck had hit her side of the car!
“Okay. You’ve only been unconscious for about two hours. Your legs, I’m sad to say, have been crushed. Almost every bone is broken. I highly doubt you will ever walk again. I have called your father. He is coming directly here. Congratulations on the win though, for the basketball team?” The doctor replied. I noticed he hardly seemed concerned at all.
“Basketball,” I remembered. I was a co-captain of my basketball team. “Will I ever be able to play again? Where is my mom?!”
“No. You will probably be confined to a wheelchair the rest of your life,” said the doctor, calmly. He kept ignoring me question about my mother.
“Where is my mother? Tell me!” By now, I was screaming. Why wouldn’t he just answer my question?
“Well…” he hesitated. “I am very sorry, son… but she was killed in the accident. Almost instantly. She didn’t suffer any, we don’t think.”
After that, I stopped hearing anything else. I remember my father showing up, at the hospital. I remember him pushing the wheelchair that I am sitting in now, into my room. And I remember the pain. I remember the guilt of being the driver when my mother was killed. I remember the anger of not driving better, more safely, of not paying better attention. And then, I remember getting the gun out of my father’s wardrobe while he was in the shower. He hasn’t even noticed it missing. I already had the pain pills, from the doctor. It was almost too easy.
I watch, from my beautiful white balcony, as Kayden reaches the basketball court. I watch as Paige walks up to him and tells him about my mother. I watch her hug him, and sob into his chest. Then, I watch as Kayden turns toward Isaiah. Kayden is already about to cry from hearing the news about our mother. I see Isaiah walk toward him and tell Kayden about my legs. Then, I watch as my brother turns and looks toward me. I know he can’t see me, but he knows where my balcony is. I see him drop his basketball, and start to run, as fast as he can toward my house. I watch him until he disappears under the tops of trees.
I wheel myself back off the balcony, and move around the room, straightening my school books, and making sure everything is straight on the walls. I pull my comforter up, and make sure there are no wrinkles on the bed.
Then, I look at the gun on my lap. I pick it up, and study it. The metal, which is so cold and unforgiving, shows me how I look. My face, which is pale and gaunt, does not belong to me; this face is a completely different face. I don’t recognize it.
As I hear the front door hit the wall, I put the gun in my mouth. I have nothing left to live for.
Kayden had dropped the ball he had been dribbling when he heard the news about his biological mother. Paige had run up to him, and hugged him close, knowing this news would hurt him, and also knowing he wouldn’t ever show how much pain he was in. It surprised her when she saw tears in his eyes. When he had turned toward Isaiah, and heard the news about Aiden’s legs, and how he wouldn’t ever be able to play basketball again, he had known instantly what Aiden was about to do. Aiden considered his life to be basketball, and his life meant nothing without it.
Kayden had turned and looked at the balcony, and hoped to God he would be there in time to stop Aiden. He ran the two miles to his father’s property and jumped over the fence instead of punching in the numbers and letting it scan his fingerprint. As he slammed the front door into the wall, and had started to run up the stairs, he heard the gunshot. He stopped and stood there on the stairway. He had no idea what to do. Scream? Cry? Tell his father? Maybe call an ambulance?
Finally, he walked reluctantly up the stairs, in the house that belonged to his father, a man who had hated him enough to give him away. He opened his twin brother’s door, hoping, praying, that this was all just a joke. As he stepped into Aiden’s room, he caught sight of what was behind the door. He slowly sat down with his back to the wall, and began to sob into his hands.