I walk through the store quickly. I want to get out of here. It's sickening how badly people are treated, not to mention me. I want nothing more then to just go home and cry. Why is that too much to ask?

The ten-minute car ride seems to last a lifetime. Some jerk cuts in front of me, forcing me to swerve. Then the car behind me honks it's horn. I don't hear it brcause I'm in my own little world. I suddenely snap out of my thoughts. My car is heading twoards the guardrail! I scream as I hit another car and then the guardrail. A semi-truck then falls on top of both of our cars. I can't remeber what happened in the next two hours.

I was told I was transferred from one hospitial to another by helicopter, untill finially the paremedics find one with the medicine and supplies I need. I then wake up, and sudden pain throbs and screams all over my body.I scream right along with it, until a doctor rushes into my room. "Oh, you're awake," he says, staring at me with pity. I look around the room. I have an I.V. hooked up to my arm and tubes all over my body. I'm so shocked I stop screaming. My head feels ready to explode. It aches so much! I feel bandages wrapped around it. I try to touch it with my hand, but I realize my hand is..gone! All I have is a little stub of a shoulder. I decide to take deep breaths to calm myself, but my chest feels too heavy. Why would this happen to me? A sixteen-year-old girl who didn't do anything wrong. Hadn't I suffered enough with the rude remarks and constant teasing because I'm not as rich as the kids in my school? The doctor is still staring at me. "What do you want?" I ask sharply. "I was just wondering if there was something I could do. We already gave you an overdose of pain medication, and surgery is schelduled for tommrow." "Just leave me alone!" I scream at him, and he leaves the room.

"Hey,Stubs. How ya doing, Scars. Why don't you just kill yourself? A poor girl without an arm isn't worth a penny, anyway." These are the comments I recieve once I'm back in school, walking to my Algebra class. I try to hide the tears that are running down my face. I decide to cut school. I run home as fast as my legs can carry me, which isn't very fast since I still have open wounds on my legs. Nobody's home. Perfect. I go to my dad's gun cabinet, and pull out the largest gun I see. As I stare into it, tears streak and stain my face. I just want it to be over. I just want to go home. I pull the trigger. Crud. There's no amo. As I'm loading the gun, I hear a little voice in my head, a callig. 'Don't to this' it says. 'Put the gun down and pray.You'll be okay, don't worry.' Those words are so soothing, so peaceful. I drop to my knees and cry once more, this time from relief.