Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Yet, I’m not ready to go. I’m not done being me. I continue to visit each room, looking for someone like me that can tell me what I’m going through. Is this common for people who have died? The only other person I know is my father and I was far too young to remember anything other than his funeral. Sure, I can recall bits and pieces of my life with him, but his funeral is vivid and often plays like a movie when I’m not sleeping well.
The double doors open when I approach. This hall is far quieter than the one I was just in, with the only sound coming from the television. The noise is easy to follow and I’m surprised to find the room empty when I arrive. Whoever left it on would be in trouble and on dish duty for a week in our house. That thought makes me giggle a little bit because it was always Quinn who left something on and was stuck with that horrible chore.
As I approach the elevator, it opens for me. I’m alone and the number for the fifth floor is lit up but once the doors close they open again. There are a lot of people waiting to get on so I step off quickly, not wanting to be the reason they’re held up any longer.
This floor is busy with nurses walking up and down the hall, patients being wheeled in their chairs to their next destination and a police officer standing outside one of the rooms. That’s the one I go in, curious as to what they did to warrant a policeman to stand guard at their door.
It’s Kyle! I rush to his bed only to realize that he can’t see me either. His leg is in a cast that extends up his thigh and his arm is bandaged. He’ll surely be done for the season with an injury like that, and he’s probably very upset about it.
There’s another officer in the room talking to Kyle. It’s only after I hear my name that I start to pay attention.
“Tell me again how you met Peyton James?”
“It’s Powell-James,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem to repeat the change. My dad has always insisted that we hyphenate even though it can get a bit tedious.
“I met her before warm-ups. I thought she was beautiful and she knew her stuff about football. That was an instant turn-on so I asked her out.”
“Kyle that’s so sweet,” I say.
“You said thought?” the officer says to Kyle, which confuses me.
“She was dead… I mean…” Kyle shakes his head and looks out the window. I wish he’d look at me so he could see that I’m not dead. I’m alive and standing right next to him.
“Did she have her seatbelt on?”
Kyle nods.
“Were you speeding?”
He shakes his head. “The truck… I didn’t see it until it was too late. I couldn’t do anything to move my car out of its way.”
“It’s okay, Kyle,” I tell him as I run my fingers over his hair. He seems to like that since he closes his eyes and leans his head toward me.
“Were you angry that you lost tonight?”
I look at the officer and say, “What kind of question is that?”
“I was, but I was looking forward to spending some time with her.”
“Me too, Kyle.”
“When they run your toxicology screen will they find anything?”
Kyle shakes his head again. “I’m clean.”
“Kyle stop answering his questions.”
I turn to find a man walking in the room and handing the officer a card. He seems angry and quickly tosses his briefcase and jacket into the chair that rests by the window.
“From this point forward if you need to speak to my client, you will do so when I’m present.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Zimmerman.”
“Asshole,” the man mutters to the officer’s back. “What the hell happened, Kyle?”
Once again he’s shaking his head. “I don’t even know. One minute I’m talking to Peyton and the next the roof of my car is flying away and she’s in my lap. There was so much blood and screaming.”
“She was screaming? That’s good. That means she was alive when they transported her.”
“No, I was screaming. She didn’t make a sound. She just laid there like she was sleeping,” he tells the man.
Kyle’s friend leans down and peers into his eyes. I do the same, wanting to know what he’s looking for or what he’s seeing. “Any drugs in your system?”
“No, I swear to God I’m clean.”
The man nods and stands back up, but I’m still looking. I like Kyle’s eyes. They’re green, but look lifeless right now.
“This doesn’t look good, Kyle. If she dies--”
“She’s still alive?” he asks.
“Yeah, but they don’t expect her to make it through the night. Her family is with her now.”
“I want to see her,” Kyle says, but his friend is shaking his head. Why can’t he go see me? Maybe Kyle is the reason I’m not awake yet. Maybe I’m waiting for him. This man should help Kyle to my room so he can see me.