As soon as I shut my bedroom door behind me, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I know who the text is from before I even look at the screen. It's Will asking if I'm doing anything tonight.

I glance at my alarm clock to see it's eight o'clock at night at the moment. I waiver my options.

I could go with Will and allow him to tell me all the things I've been dying to know since the day he left me behind, or I could fall into my bed and go to sleep like I so badly want to.

I guess there's something about secrets, and finding out what they are, that always draws people in. I know I shouldn't do it and my parents will have my head when they find out I snuck out, but I feel like it's worth it.

Not only do I want to know, but I need to.

I jerk my nice clothes off and pull on a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt, then head to the bathroom to scrub the makeup off my face. My bruise is clearly there and when I accidentally forget about it and rub a towel over it, I wince. It's still yellow and blue, but I don't want to put makeup on it. Especially if I'm only going to see Will.

I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head and make my way outside to get into my car.

The air has moved from a cool breeze to a chilly breeze in the matter of 30 minutes. It's probably 60 degrees, but still I find goosebumps rising on my arms.

I pull out of the driveway and call Will to ask him where I'm going. He gives me the directions to his house again, refreshing my mind from the last time I was there.

The rain begins to pound on the earth just as I'm halfway to his house.

"Well, let's get off the phone so you can focus on driving," Will tells me. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Okay, yeah," I say, my voice calm. The wind is pushing the rain sideways so that it looks as if it's flying right at me. "I'll see you later."

I hang up and toss my phone onto the passenger side seat, but it bounces onto the floor. For a moment I think about grabbing it, but I'm too scared to take my hands off the wheel.

I can feel the panic rising in me as the rain comes down harder. A few cars pass by me and it seems like I can feel the air that rushes between their cars and mine.

There's one thing that calms me down, gets my mind off things.

I look at the rain that's flying at me and notice that in my headlights it looks like I'm  flying through space and all the stars. They shine brightly against the black backdrop of the night sky.

I smile and think of how dumb I am for having to distract myself like this.

Then two bright lights come into view and my distracted mind doesn't think anything of it. Maybe I'm just tried.

They look like the sun - well, two suns - shines against the stars.

It turns out they're headlights.

But that doesn't register until they've crashed into the front end of my car, forcing everything in motion to come to a stop. I feel my head jerk forward and it smashes against the steering wheel.

Then everything becomes a dream, blurry and unreal.

*

I can't get my eyes to open when my brain wakes up. It's like they're cemented shut and no matter how hard I try to open them, they will not bust.

My ears are working, though. I can hear the murmurs outside of my body by people and the constant beeping that is in rhythm with my heart. My smell is too; I can smell the disinfectant as it clogs my airway. I wish I could turn that part off.

I suddenly realize that my head is pounding. It feels as if my forehead is on fire and my brain is beating like my heart.

"Aarrgh," I manage to gurgle out of my dry throat. Finally I'm able to force my eyes open, but they hurt when the light hits them. I roll my head over to find the culprit of the light and find a window. Beside that window is a boy with shaggy brown hair and wrinkled clothes.

His chin is pressed to his chest and his head rises and falls with his lungs. With the sun bouncing off his hair, it makes it shimmer red.

It takes me a minute to realize it's Will. But the panic begins to set in once I realize I'm in a hospital. My heartbeat picks up and so does that annoying beeping sound.

Will suddenly comes to life. He starts with a jump, not even looking at my face to see I'm awake before he runs for the monitors.

He rests his hand on the side of my bed as he looks for something to do, though both of us know he doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

I reach up and weakly wrap my fingers around his wrist.

"Hey," I say hoarsely.

Will looks down at me and a smile brighter than the sun beams down at me. He leans down to wrap his arms around me, but I wince and he lets go immediately.

"Hey," he says, panicked yet excited. "Are you... do you feel okay?"

"Well, I'm kind of dying of thirst," I tell him. His eyes widen and he darts to the table at the end of my bed to grab a styrofoam cup. He hands it to me and I take a long swig of the Sierra Mist.

"What happened?" I ask as he pulls the chair he was sleeping in next to my bed.

"You were in a car accident," he begins hesitantly. "You were on your way to my house to meet me so I could tell you everything." He looks away and takes a hand through his hair. "To tell you everything that's keeping us apart."

I stare at him after he finishes. The memories of the rain come flooding back to me along with the events that occurred earlier that night.

"How long have I been out?" I ask him quietly.

"A little over twelve hours," he explains. "I think the doctors had something to do with that. I'm not medically educated enough to tell you what happened."

"Oh," is all I can muster. I examine my body, moving my toes and fingers, then my fingers and wrists. Pain shoots up through my leg when I move my right foot.

"I do know that you apparently fractured your foot. It got lodged under something when the other car hit you," Will adds. "He was texting and driving."

"Is he..."

"He's fine. Probably sitting in jail or something. Good thing, too, because Tyler and I have even made plans to go find him if not..."

"Tyler?"

"Yeah, you've got a whole waiting room full of people waiting for you to wake up. Hannah has even decided to skip school today."

I look over at the door and I'm tempted to go find her. After my near death experience, I don't want to forget to tell her anything - especially how much our friendship means to me.

"I'll go get your parents," Will says as he stands from his chair.

I begin to panic again, my heart racing along with the beeping of the heart monitor.

"They're going to kill me." I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Will is by the door. He shakes his head. "I told them it was my fault. It didn't take long to convince them." A forced smile forms on his face.

I don't get a chance to call him back and tell him that it's not his fault - it was never his fault.

*

Dad stays by my bed for almost an hour. It started out with a tense talk about how I need to be more careful when I'm driving. I explained what I could remember: I was driving on my side of the road, it was raining and with the lights reflecting off the rain, I just didn't realize the headlights were coming straight for me. I also explained that yes, I was headed to see Will, but this accident couldn't possibly be his fault.

"What could I have done anyway, Dad?" I ask him with more attitude than I should. My head is still pounding and I have a feeling my face is all cut up. "If I tried to swerve out of his way, I'd probably be in worse shape."

"I know, Jess," he says softly. "We're all just glad you're okay." He looks closely at my face and I sink into my bed more. "Did you get that bruise in the accident? It looks older."

I feel my cheek where the bruise sits. "Um, I'm pretty sure it came from the accident."

He looks at it for a second longer before I turn my head away.

"Well," he breathes. "I'll go get your mom."

I watch him leave from the corner of my eye and prepare myself for my mother to come in.

Mom and I have never had a good relationship; since the day I could remember, we've always butt heads over the littlest things. Dad used to say it's because we're so much alike, but I can't see a bossy and demanding girl in the mirror.

Okay, maybe I do sometimes. But I will never admit that aloud.

Every Sunday morning before church, Mom would try to squeeze me in a poofy, flowery dress that once belonged to both my sisters. I would tell and scream and stomp my way to my dad in hopes he could save a damsel in distress. He usually would come to my rescue, but as I grew up he couldn't do that anymore.

So, I got suckered into being a cheerleader, signing up for advanced classes, and going to college to become something successful.

Today, I'm not a cheerleader, I've flunked out of my AP classes - which Mom is aware of only because she had to have a discussion with my principal, and I have no idea what I'm doing after I graduate.

There's no escaping her wrath now. And I as I give myself a pep talk, I realize that I haven't lost my sense of humor.

"Jessa," Mom announces once she walks into the room. She shuts the door behind her and nears my bed, pulling a chair over to sit next to my bed. She rests her hands in her lap and watches me, eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Mom," I whisper. If I ever meet a person who's not scared of their mother when they know they did something she won't like, then I'll question every one of their motives.

"What got into you? Does anything hurt right now?" As she asks me this, I can relax a little. She's being her motherly self, but it won't be long until she knows all the truths I have hidden away. "Do you want to tell me what you were up to sneaking out of the house and getting yourself into this mess?"

"Mom," I say as she rants about safety and how I need to listen to my parents. "Mom. I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Yes, and I'm grateful, Jessa." She leans forward and her face goes stern. "But you have a lot of explaining to do. I called the school earlier this morning to let your coach know that you won't be at practice."

At this, I avert my eyes from hers. I stare at the dark TV screen on the wall and swallow the lump in my throat.

"She informed me that you aren't even on the team anymore. Want to explain that? And while you're at it, is there anything else you've lied to me about?"

I fiddle with my fingers and try to ignore the pounding of my head and the urge to puke up the Sierra Mist I sucked down earlier.

"I, um..." I trail off, searching my injured head for an answer. "I guess I don't have an excuse."

Mom lets out a humorless laugh. "I cannot believe you would lie to me about that. When were you planning on telling me? After I went to a game and realized you weren't cheering?"

"I was going to tell you, Mom," I explain.

"I would have found out, so why wouldn't you just tell me?" I can hear the actual hurt in her voice, and it almost stops me from saying what I'm about to say.

"Because I can't tell you anything, Mom. You either get butt-hurt over it or I become a disappointment. That's why I don't tell you anything."

My heart monitor is beeping wildest again and I grow so frustrated with them that reach under my gown and rip them each off my chest. Mom lurches forward to try and stop me but it's already done.

"Jessa!" She scolds. I toss them away from me but Mom catches them and tries to place them back on me. She catches a glimpse of the side of my face and stops what she's doing. "Where do you get that bruise? I was told you only hit your forehead on the steering wheel."

I jerk my head away from her to block her view of the bruise. "Nowhere."

"Tori said something about there being a bruise on your face," Mom tells me as she pulls my face back into her view by grabbing my chin gently. "Are you fighting with people at school now, too? When is this going to stop, Jessa? You were doing great! Great - until that boy showed up again."

Realization surfaces on her face - except that it's the wrong realization. I don't do this on purpose or because of Will. I do this because all I know how to do is attract trouble.

Mom leaves me then, walking just outside the door to catch a nurse. I hear her say something about fixing my heart monitor and that I need rest.

With that, a nurse marches in with the orders my mother gave her, and when she leaves, she shuts the door behind her to leave me alone in this cold hospital room.

__________

What'd you think? Is Jessa's mom too strict/controlling or is she just like any normal mom?

Thanks for reading!!