My hospital room welcomed me as I woke. I looked around and saw no one, not even someone behind the curtain next to me in the room. The hospital, what I saw of it, was gloomy, filled with all dull colors. I was saddened just by the atmosphere of the room. As I looked around, I could see that neither doctors nor nurses had been in here for a while.

Lonely, I laid in my hospital bed with only myself. I could remember what happened, but I had no idea what occurred after I blacked out. As I laid there, I thought of my parents and brothers. I didn't hurt too bad, I didn't believe, so I thought they should be fine. I hoped and prayed they were okay. Sometimes, when you hope for something, what you're hoping for doesn't exist. I couldn't help but pray.

I soon watched a nurse walk in, but my eyes were barely open that she couldn't tell I was awake. I tried to say something to her, but my mouth stopped me from saying anything. I was surprised when I couldn't say anything, but maybe it was for the best. I kept my mouth shut for another hour, watching nurses occasionally walk in and out of my room. None of them could tell I had awoken, most likely because I hadn't said anything.

My eyes, only slightly open, watched the doctors walk into my room then right back out of it only a minute later. When one suspected I was awake, he walked over to me. He could see slits of my eyes, and he shined a light in my eyes. He then asked me to follow the light, so I did. He was delighted when he saw that I wasn't unconscious anymore: I could hear him and move my eyes, but I hadn't tried to speak since when that first nurse was in my room.

I tried opening my eyes a little further, and I succeeded. I muttered, "I–"

"Yes, Miss Cole?" The doctor watched me as I tried to speak. I stared at him, trying to say more than one letter.

"My–" I said to him. I was restricted from saying anything else, but I tried.

"Your... what?" he asked, smiling at me as if he was pleased with how well I was doing. He acted like this was a good thing, that I was speaking a two-letter word.

I tried even harder to speak, and all of a sudden, it seemed like the barrier that held me back from speaking was no longer. "My family... Are they okay?"

The doctor looked baffled at how easily I spoke. He smiled sympathetically and dodged my question. "How are you feeling, Devyn?"

I answered the doctor, suddenly speaking with ease, "I'm all right. I don't really hurt anywhere, I don't believe. I just want to know how my family is. Do you know anything? Please tell me."

The doctor, whose name tag read Dr. Jameson, put his hand on my arm. I looked at him quizzically. I knew what he was trying to do. No doctor ever acted in that manner unless there was something severely wrong. I knew what it was I couldn't bring myself to admit it, so I let the doctor tell me in his own way. His gaze traveled between my eyes and the floor, occasionally stopping at his hand in between. I looked at him intently, waiting for an answer. I never got one. All I could hear was heavy breathing of my own and the slow, steady breaths of Dr. Jameson. "Is everything all right, Doctor? There's something wrong, isn't there? I just know it! Something terrible happened to them!"

"You do remember what happened a few days ago, don't you, Miss Cole?" he questioned.

"How could I forget?" I asked rhetorically. "That was the scariest second of my life. I've been unconscious for days?"

"Yes, you were. We were all worried about you. You seemed to be okay, well, physically. We hope you're okay mentally," he explained.

"I feel fine, both physically and mentally, unless you count worrying as not being okay mentally. If you do, I feel horrible. I need to know how my family is doing, Doctor."

Only after what felt like hours of silence did he speak. "Miss Cole, I'm sorry to inform you that your parents died on impact. Your brothers, Sawyer and Alexander, sitting in the second row of your SUV also died right away."

I began to sob instantaneously. The shock overwhelmed me. I had no idea that it was that severe. Less than a second was all it took to have my family taken away from me. I cried harshly, covering my face with my hands. I turned away from the doctor so I wouldn't cry right in front of him. He handed me a tissue after I turned away from him. I accepted the tissue and blew my nose. I continued to sob. My cries only slowed down when I remembered Blake. Blake was sitting beside me, in the back of the car. How could he be hurt if I wasn't?

"Blake," I whispered, underneath my breath. I didn't believe anyone could hear me say it, which is not what I wanted. I wanted to scream his name from the top of my lungs. However, Dr. Jameson leaned in closer and asked me what I'd said. I repeated it almost as quiet as before, "Blake. My brother... He was sitting beside me in the back of the car."

"Yes, Blake," he nodded. I immediately knew something was wrong with him. "Blake is in critical condition right now, and we believe he may have brain damage. He could also possibly be paralyzed from the neck down. We aren't quite sure yet. We're waiting to do some tests until he is more stable. I'm sorry to say that it doesn't look good for him, either."

"Could I see him?" I spoke through tears. That news was not what I had hoped to hear at the moment. I continued to believe that everything would be okay. I wouldn't lose all of them. There was still hope for Blake.

"I'm not sure you'd like to do that..." Dr. Jameson's voice faded. He looked at me as if to ask me if I really wanted to see him. I was surprised that he was questioning me. I didn't question it. There was no way I was not going to go see my brother that day.

"I need to see my brother, Doctor," I almost begged him to let me see Blake. Dr. Jameson was reluctant, but I was persistent. He finally gave in and allowed me to be taken in a wheelchair to see my brother. Even though I was glad I'd be able to see Blake, I wasn't excited. For some reason, I was worried. I hoped he didn't look as bad as I was picturing.

On our way to Blake's room, Dr. Jameson explained to me what had happened in the car crash a few days before. Basically, my parents and two youngest brothers were hit directly by the car because the other car was going so fast. The other car penetrated our car, smashing into my parents and youngest brothers. Blake, because he didn't have a seatbelt on, lurched forward. I was saved by my seatbelt. Even though I had some bruises across my chest from the seatbelt brushing against me and possibly a concussion, I was completely okay. No broken bones, no terrible cuts or scrapes. It seemed like a miracle that I'd made it out that well. I didn't understand it. How could I have gotten out so easily? There must've been a reason. I prayed to God, asking him why he allowed me to escape the wreck, unhurt. I didn't get an answer, at least not right away.

When we entered Blake's room, I was a terrible mess. He looked truly horrific. I cried so hard my shoulders shook rapidly. The doctor who was in his room at the time tried to comfort me, and so did Dr. Jameson. It wasn't working well, but I tried my best to give them the satisfaction that it was working.

Blake had definitely broken many bones, and he was still unconscious. I could only see one part of his body, his head. Most of the rest of his body was inside a cast or under the covering of the bed. It was heartbreaking to see. I rolled myself over to his bed and grabbed his hand. "You need to fight, Blake. You're the only family I have left—"

I could barely get through my sentence without bursting into tears. I was crying even harder than I was before, which was hardly possible. The doctors watched me as I grasped his hand as hard as I could. His arm was already in a cast, but I tightly gripped his fingers and held them as I cried. My tears dropped onto his hand, one after the other. I couldn't control it. I bawled as I looked at my "baby" brother who was really only a year younger than me. He had so much life left in front of him. He had to get through this. He had to live. There was no reason for him to die. I looked up at God and just prayed for a miracle. There was no doubt in my mind that God was there with me at that time. It was the most emotional few seconds of my life.

The next thing that happened was not something I, nor the doctors, could explain.

I watched a tear fall onto Blake's hand, and his hand moved slightly within the grasp of my own. I gasped and cried harder, repeating his name and the nickname "Blakey" over and over again. I saw his eyes flutter open, all so suddenly. It was as if he was completely okay, and nothing had happened to him. He seemed to be perfectly fine with the brightest eyes and the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. He looked right at me and said so quietly I could hardly hear, "Devyn..."

His head fell flat on the pillow, his eyes still open, and both of the doctors in the room gasped. I was shocked, and I couldn't believe my eyes. One doctor, clearly confused by what had just occurred, rolled me to the door of the room before calling a nurse. I watched as the doctors did small tests on my brother. They shined a light in his eyes. No response. They moved his head to one side then to the other. The doctors looked at each other and shook their heads, moving quickly.

When the nurse arrived seconds later, she was instructed to take me back into my room. I didn't want to leave my brother, but I knew I had to. The doctors didn't want me to stay. I couldn't watch what they were doing to him, no matter how much I wanted to stay and see him to comfort him. I didn't want to see it. I knew they'd tell me bad news the next time they came to see me. The nurse was very nice to me when she was taking me back to my room, and she was extremely gentle as she helped me get back into my hospital bed.

"I know," I said quietly to the nurse as she began to walk out of my room. She turned around and looked at me quizzically. "I know what they were doing to my brother. They were shaking their heads no, and that's not a good sign. I can tell you that right now. There's not going to be good news. Please, don't let them tell me because I know it already. I can't bear to hear them say it, making it all realistic," I looked at her pleadingly.

She studied my face for a second before quietly admitting, "I'm so sorry..."

That's exactly what he said. He told me he was sorry then continued, "Your brother, Blake, has been pronounced brain dead. I don't mean to rush you, but we need to know—and soon." He paused for a long time. Everything seemed like a long time in that room. I stared at the doctor until he would finish his thought. "We are required to ask a person of the patient's immediate family. Since you are the only immediate family left, we must ask you if you will allow Blake to be an organ donor. With his case, we are able to remove his organs and use them for other medical reasons. If you would allow us to do so, it would be greatly appreciated. Do not feel obligated to say yes, for you are not required to. Would you allow us to donate his organs?"

I looked at Dr. Jameson and didn't have to think for long. I bit my lip and nodded. He handed me a paper that I signed quickly, without a thought.

Dr. Jameson nodded slowly but then moved quite quickly. He thanked me quietly as he left the room. I understood his sudden departure. He needed to remove Blake's organs as quickly as he could. I just hoped that, with the organs he donates, Blake will be able to help save someone else's life. Something good had to come of this terrible event in my life.

Another doctor walked into my room soon after Dr. Jameson had left. This doctor, named Dr. Meyer, told me he came into my room just to ask if I was all right. I was skeptical at first, but he seemed to genuinely care about how I was feeling. I decided it would be best for me to open up to someone, and Dr. Meyer seemed like the only option I had, even though that wasn't a bad thing.

"I feel lonely right now," I admitted. "My whole family is gone now; all five of the others in my family are dead. I don't have any other close family. The closest family I have is my cousins, distant cousins. I feel like I have no one. I do have no one. No friends, no family. There's no one close to me that I can count on. I'm all alone."

"You shouldn't ever feel that way. Remember, we're here for you. We can set you up with a therapist that you can go to see regularly. I'm sorry that there won't be anything anyone can do about your living situation, however. You will be living on your own, either in your current house or one you buy yourself if you decide to sell the one you live in now. Since you're a legal adult, you cannot go into a foster home. I'm sorry to tell you that."

"I don't want to go into the foster system. I'd prefer to be alone because I don't feel like being passed around from family to family, each full of people who feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me," I argued.

"Miss Cole, I understand your frustration. I deal with this all of the time. When people lose loved ones, they need like they need to shut themselves away so they don't get hurt again. That's not true. You'll get hurt even more if you shut yourself off from others. I'd suggest spending time with friends or trying to make new ones. Like I said earlier, I can try to get you in with a therapist if you'd like that."

I shrugged. "I just want my family back."

"I understand that you want that, Miss Cole. I'm terribly sorry, but I know you understand that I cannot possibly bring them back to you. This must be devastating for you, and I wanted to let you know that lawyers will soon be getting in touch with you to talk about your inheritance and what will happen now that your family members have passed."

"I understand," I told him. "When do you think I'll be able to be admitted from the hospital? And when do you think my family's funeral will be?"

"I believe that you will be allowed out of the hospital not tomorrow but the morning after, if you're feeling completely stable by then. And it will be completely up to you when you have your family's funeral, or if you even want to have a funeral."

"I don't want to have a funeral for them," I told the doctor. He nodded and smiled because he knew how I felt. He dealt with things like this every day.

"Just think about it, Miss Cole," he told me as he stood up from the chair he had been sitting in. He began to walk out of the room before I stopped him as he was in the doorframe.

"I thought about it," I announced to him. "I don't want to have a funeral."

He shook his head, laughing a little before walking out of the room.

The next day was spent in the hospital like Dr. Meyers told me would happen. I spent most of the day sleeping. I did get a lot of calls from my brothers' friends or some of my parents' friends and even the football team, telling me how they were saddened by the losses we'd experienced in the days before. Some mentioned how they were worried about me and that they hoped I was dealing with it well. I got texts with pictures that some of my brothers' friends had of my family members.

I did my best not to check my phone very often, but I couldn't help it. I was getting texted every ten minutes, and a call would come in at least once every forty-five minutes. I let the calls go to voicemail. I slept through my ringtone most of the time anyway.

I knew I wouldn't be able to bear hearing what everyone had to say. I didn't want pictures. Nothing would compare to having them back. Although impossible, I prayed that I could have them back. If that was too much to ask for, I pleaded with God for one. There was nothing that anyone could do now. I held onto hope, but I knew that even God couldn't bring my family back. I knew it was part of his plan, as my mother always reminded me. Don't lose hope, she'd say. Rely on God. It's His plan, and everything happens for a reason.

After spending that day in the hospital, I was let go the next morning. The hospital helped me with getting my family's things out of the SUV because it was most definitely totaled. My parents also hadn't had the closing on our new house quite yet; we had still been staying in a hotel with our essentials. We had a moving truck with all of our belongings in it scheduled to come the day after the closing.

Before leaving the hospital, I called a taxi to take me to the hotel we had been staying in. When I arrived back to the hotel, I spent hours just looking at things my parents and brothers had brought with them, things they considered "essentials." I enjoyed reminiscing for the rest of the afternoon. It didn't seem like long until it was time for dinner, so I ordered delivery and paid with the money my parents had set aside for the few days we'd be living in the hotel.

When I continued to look through my family's things, I found a teddy bear with a football helmet that Sawyer had brought with him. His football coaches had gotten it for him when he first started football in kindergarten. That night, I fell asleep cuddling the teddy bear in my arms with my mother's favorite sweater on in a hotel room that smelled like my father's cologne.