I wasn't stopping for anything and I sure as hell wasn't taking my foot off the accelerator for a little rain. I was late for my mum's birthday, I had promised to be there, yet here I was, speeding down a dead road on my way back from Anna's party. I said I'd only be a few hours, I didn't realise I had almost been there the whole night.

The hiss of the tyres over the smooth tarmac was lost under the blasting music. Even though I was stressed and pushing past the speed limit a little, my favourite country song came on for when I'm in the car. I bellowed along to the song, tapping the wheel to the beat. 

My childhood memories spilled into my thoughts and a grin spread across my face. My grandad had always played it on repeat when I was little, so it was always my go to song when I was alone in my car. It meant I could jam out to it without being judged. 

I leant over to turn it up as my favourite part was coming, my grin still plastered to my face. 

Before I could even reach out to touch the dial, something hit me from behind.

It happened so fast I barely had time to scream before the air bags knocked me back and sideways. My body jerked to the dashboard, my forehead colliding with the window. There was nothing I could do to stop the car, it tumbled over and over. The momentum had my eyes struggling to keep up with the movement.

It wasn't until I rammed into the central barrier that I came to an absolute stop. Silence; it scared me more than the pain.

I was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in my mouth but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. My eyelids were fluttering open, but as my mind was clouded with a thick haze, I couldn't seem to will them to stay open for long. They felt so heavy. I suddenly thought I must be at home in bed because it was so dark. I must be dreaming. But why did I feel so cold? Why could I hear the sound of rain on metal? Why the pain, God, why so much pain?

Then came a blue flicker, the sound of sirens, wait, police?

It came back to me.

The panic rose.

And then everything went black.

***

When I woke up, my mother was sitting next to me, her legs dangling off one side of the green armchair. Her body twisted away from me in a way that could never be comfortable enough to actually sleep in. She had a pen stuck in her auburn hair holding the top section of it up. I always loved how no matter where we were, if my mum picked up some new inspiration, she'd always pull a notepad out of her bag. Even if it was already full with drawings, it wouldn't stop her from finding some space. She would whip out the pen that always either sat behind her ear or was used to twist her hair together so she could start scribbling down whatever she saw.

She didn't know I had awakened, and my mind was too clouded to form the words from my head to my mouth so I could let her know I was awake.

But why did she need to know? Why was she sat next to me as I slept? The answer was on the tip of my tongue, yet no matter how long I focussed on trying to reach it, it wouldn't come to me. My head started to hurt.

I think I must have made a noise because when I stopped trying to remember the thing that was so important, my mother's body had done a 180 turn. She now sat facing me, her big green eyes filled with concern. There were more lines around her eyes then I remembered, worry lines.

"Oh Leah," My mother said in a hushed tone while she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. The pen so tiredly wedged into a knot of hair, fell onto the floor, letting her red hair fall around her shoulders. "you're awake."

Awake? Of course I am, I must have fallen asleep, why is she-

Flashing lights.

Blue.

Red.

It came back to me. "What happened?" I asked in a panicky voice. I found myself pulling my hand away from my mother so I could push myself up from the bed I was in, that way I could see my surroundings better. Pain shot through my chest, I squeezed my face up, as if it were to stop the pain. It didn't. When I opened my eyes again, white walls and boring art stared back at me. I looked down to see I was in a white hospital gown.

There was a long pause. My mother was looking down at where she had been holding my hand, only to now be staring at her own empty one. She closed it into a ball.

"You were in an accident, you've been in a coma for a few days. You had me worried sick, Leah. I've not been able to sleep. The doctors say you have amnesia as well, do you remember anything from the accident?" She asks softly.

I shake my head, no.

My thoughts try to process. She must have taken my pause as a prompt to continue. "You hit your head in the accident, it was raining, he was drunk, it wasn't your fault." She wavered a moment, analysing my face for emotion. My face felt numb. 

"I was in a car accident?" I ask bewildered.

My mother nodded. "You were coming home from Anna's party, they say you had no alcohol in your system. But the other driver, well the same couldn't be said for him, he hit you and made you crash." She looked down at the floor, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "The doctors say you have amnesia, do you remember anything from the accident?"

I shake my head.

Her tears spill from her eyes. "I almost lost you baby," She choked out before launching herself over to me so she could hug me. I hug her back, but only because I couldn't think of anything else to do.

My mind was racing. 

"But you're alright, you're alright baby girl." Her sentence was muffled from her head been pressed into my shoulder.

A car accident.

The spinning.

The panic.

I remembered those feelings, but everything else leading up to that moment was blank.

Everything was gone.

After having constant check ups from doctors for the next few hours and persistence from my mother to stay a few more days at the hospital, I finally managed to get her to sign some documents so I was allowed to go home. The car journey was quiet, I think my mum had expected me to not want to get in the car, but I did. I wasn't scared of it, I wasn't even scared of the thought of driving. But only because I couldn't actually remember the crash, only the feelings after. Before I blacked out.

We pulled up to the house, and it still looked the same. It still had its broken, faded green shutters. A roof with missing slates and ugly weeds growing through the small gaps between the slabs of stones leading to the front door. But although it wasn't perfect, it was home.

"I'll grab the bags hun, you just go upstairs and run yourself a hot bath. I'll get dinner on as well, I'm sure you're famished." My mum said as she walked to the back of the car, opening the boot and reaching into it.

"A little." I spoke in a soft voice, my mind was still processing, so the thought of food hadn't even occurred to me. But my stomach rumbled in response.

I opened the door, taking in the sweet christmassy smell my house always had. If there was one thing my mother loved, it was cinnamon candles. Where as I hated that smell, it reminded me of my dad.

My mum entered behind me, placing the bags next to the door. I turned around to see her beaming at me. "It feels so good to see you in the house again, it felt so empty without you." I gave her a soft smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I need to run to the shop, I'm going to make your favourite, lasagne." She beams at me again.

"Thanks mum." It was all I could think to say.

I headed upstairs, pulling myself up using the rail as well as counting the steps as I always did. 15 steps. As always, yet I still couldn't walk up or down them without constantly counting. Just in case. 

I pause when I see my door. Although I had only been unconscious for a few days, it felt like I hadn't been in my room for so long. I felt like it wasn't mine anymore. I shook off the stupidity of that feeling and went straight to my door.

As my door swung open, I noticed something odd. There was a shape in the corner, sitting on my chair. 

I edged closer, it wasn't a shape. 

It was a figure.

I screamed.

The figures head snapped up and I could hear it saying something in a calm, soothing voice. Blood had rushed into my ears so I couldn't hear what it was saying. Suddenly, it stepped out into the light from my window, the figure was a boy. About the same age as me. His black hair stood out against the bright light from the window.

"Are you calming down now?" He asks in a bored voice.

I looked at him, speechless. "Get- what- who are you?" I stumble through my words, forcing out questions so I could get answers.

"I don't know," He simply replies.

Again, I looked at him, dumbfounded. "What?" I pause, studying his face. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny. "Why are you in my house? Why are you in my room?" My voice rose, I realised the situation I was in. There was a stranger in my house, in my room, doing who knows what.

"I don't know that either," He gave me an easy smile.

That flipped a switch in me. "Then get out my house before I call the police you creep!" I shrieked. I was already taking several steps back, shuffling towards my door.

He stepped forward.

I put my arms up as if to defend myself, "Mum!" I scream, turning my head towards my door, but never taking my eyes off him. No response. Dread hit me as I remembered my mum saying she was heading to the shop. She wasn't here to hear my scream.

"Woah, will you just calm down?" My mouth dropped.

"Sorry to tell you this, Creep, but this is my house you're in, there's no way I'm going to fucking calm down."

"If you stop shrieking I promise to tell you who I am." His brown eyes shone with annoyance, which only fuelled my anger.

"You missed that opportunity buddy," I laugh, tension emanating from my voice.

"I don't know who I am. I don't know why I'm here either, okay?" He huffs, "I just opened my eyes, and here I was, standing in your stupid room!"

I got defensive. Who was he to shout at me, and call my room stupid? He's the one breaking and entering, probably stealing as well. "Well what do you know then?! Obviously you're just trying to mess with me, what do you even want?" 

He stood there, staring back at me, not looking like he was about to reply any time soon.

"I'm going to ask you one last time and if you don't answer, the cops will be hauling your sorry ass to prison." I pause again, almost catching my breath before I ask slowly. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"All I know is one thing," he replies, his big brown eyes sharp and angry. A stranger to the easygoing, annoying moron he was when we met a second ago.

He hesitates, tilting his head up, as if he was thinking of the best way to respond, or reconsidering if he should tell me or not.

Tired of his games and not wanting him to change his mind, I reply, "which is?"

"That I'm dead."