Car Crash

I couldn't help but moan in pain. My lack of any meds, even just some Tylenol, was beginning to wear on me. I used to think I was pretty tolerant of pain, but obviously I was wrong. It's no wonder my mom stopped at two kids. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that would be.
"Are you holding up alright Macayle? Is the ice doing anything to help?" Mom asked, turning directly behind her to look at me. Then she glanced at my left foot with the ice which was stretched out onto the driver's side of the back seat.
"Sure. I don't know. It just hurts." Short, concise sentences were best right now. My voice cracked in pain every time I opened my mouth as it was, so speaking anymore than was necessary wasn't a great idea.
I stared out my window, feeling numb. Not physically numb, but mentally, emotionally. At best, my ankle would only be sprained. If that was the case, I would be able to get up and run around within a couple of weeks. That would be ideal. Unfortunately, however, I had had many sprained ankles in my lifetime from all my sports, and never had a mere sprain felt like this before. Worst case scenario, which seemed much more likely at this point, could be... I couldn't even begin to fathom the possibilities. Broken maybe, torn ligaments. I could even need surgery if it was bad enough. I moaned again. Thoughts of my life ending was all I could think of. After all, without basketball, that's essentially what would be happening. I didn't have anything else to live for.
For as long as I could remember, I had played basketball. It was in my blood. My dad played college ball, and my mom played in high school. My older brother of four years, Aaron, helped me become the best I could possibly be. He played on the high school team too, and would've played in college, but he had other plans. I could remember when I turned four and he even got me my own basketball with his own money. He was my main driving force for sticking with the game, even when I thought it wasn’t worth it anymore.
When I was young, I played with Aaron almost every day. We grew up as best friends, and he was always looking out for me. But he was also always trying to help me to become better at everything, especially basketball.
We played together almost every day, and he was always willing. He loved the game just about as much as I do, and did even when I was four years old. The year before I went into kindergarten was my first year playing on a real team for our city league. I loved every second of it. But that was the case with all sports. I did everything back then; soccer, baseball, volleyball, swim team. I even fenced for a couple of summers. But no matter what, every basketball season, I would get sucked in and then I never wanted it to end. That's when I knew what I needed to focus on.
Basketball was my sport, and I was going to go all the way.
Whenever Aaron would have his friends come over and they would start playing, he’d run into the house to find me and invite me out to play with them. I joined them every time. Although I was half their size, it helped train me. I became quick and agile. I learned to arch my shot perfectly, even over those taller than me. Dribbling low became my best friend and learning tricks was always fun for me. By the time I was 14, I was holding my own against those 17 and 18 year olds. Those boys are how I became what I am today. Was, I thought bitterly. I guess I’m not much of a hot shot right now.
But when freshman year came, all of that changed.
I was starting as point guard for varsity team for my high school. Aaron was supposed to play ball for Duke. He was going to be a starting guard, coming in as a freshman—that’s how good he was. But then he did a 180 and decided to join the army instead.
“I want to follow in the same footsteps as Grandpa James,” he told me when I asked why he was giving up his dreams. “I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’ve always wanted to defend this country. It’s not my dream to become big, Mac. That’s yours. And you’re well on your way to getting there.” I didn’t think I was that great, but I was pleased that he thought so. I was just so afraid I was going to lose him, lose my best friend.
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he had said. “I’ll be fine. I just hope I get to see your first high school game, and then I’ll be happy.”
He got his wish. My first game was scheduled for two weeks later. I was so nervous at the time, but when I saw the look on Aaron’s face, pure excitement and happiness, I was instantly calm. With him cheering me on from the sidelines, I played the best game I ever had before. The excitement of having him with me though was short lived.
He went into basic training the next month. And as soon as that training was over, he began training in the Special Forces. Soon after that, he went wherever he went to do whatever it was that he couldn’t talk about. It was a classified mission.
Shortly thereafter, the knock on our door came.
Aaron died in combat.
I didn’t leave my room for days after that. My best friend, my brother…gone. I was never going to see him again. I was never going to play basketball with him, or joke with him. No more pulling pranks or hiking the mountains by our house. No more midnight nights under the sky, talking about life. It was all gone, ripped out from under me. Just like that.
After a few days of crying, remorse and reflecting though, I remembered what he had said to me that night that seemed a lifetime ago. “It’s not my dream to become big, Mac. That’s yours. And you’re well on your way to getting there.” He believed in me, and I knew he would be disappointed in me if I didn’t live up to those dreams. That’s when I decided I was going to play, do my best and live it up—for him.
I brought my mind back to the present as I tried to focus on each mail box as it zoomed by. I needed to keep my mind occupied, away from things that just pained me not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. But every time I thought about the promise I made to myself, I thought of Aaron. Every time I thought of what I was losing just then, I wanted to just break down and cry. And every time we hit a pot hole, my foot was jerked and another wave of pain shot up not only my foot, but my whole leg. We hit another one just then and I groaned deeply.
"Ow..." I whimpered, trying not to make too much noise, but failing miserably. I had already had my fair share of screaming in pain for the day, but I couldn't help it.
"Mac, we'll be there soon, honey." My mom turned to look at me from the front. She had a sad look on her face, like she knew how much pain this was going to cause me in the long run. My dad took a quick glance back as well with the same expression on his face. Great. Let the pity fest begin, I thought gloomily.
I looked past them, not wanting to see their faces. Pity was not what I wanted. I wanted it to all just go away and me be healed.
My dad looked back to the road and stopped at the stop sign. My mom was still staring at me with that look. I made a point of looking anywhere but at her face. But as my dad pulled forward, my mom touched his leg and he took another glance back in my direction. The touch of concern and worry. I looked away quickly, not only because I didn't want to see that, but something caught my eye from my peripheral. As my head turned, I saw a huge truck speeding our way, flashing lights behind them. I felt my chest constrict, my breath catch. The truck wasn't slowing down. It was just going to bulldoze its way through the intersection. I let out a scream. I knew what was about to happen.
"Dad!" I screamed in horror hoping to warn him in time. But he saw it too late.
I felt the impact on the front of the car on my side. I heard as my mom make a blood curdling sound, and saw as my dad reached across to her in an attempt to protect her. The glass at my window shattered, and my arm flung in a direction I wasn't aware it was going to. A huge gash on my arm began to bleed profusely and my head was spinning. I closed my eyes. The car was still going in circles and if I didn't feel so much pain, I would almost think it were like an amusement park ride. But just then, mid spin, another impact came. I wasn't expecting this one and my head jerked to the side and hit the car. I tried to keep my eyes open. I had to make sure my parents were okay. But my head was spinning wildly and my eyes were drooping closed. My head was bobbing now, but I tried to stay alert. It was futile though. They fluttered closed against my will as I drifted off into an unconscious oblivion.