"Do you really have to go?" Ryder and I are laying in my hospital bed, watching movies on my laptop. I'm going to be here for two more days, then hopefully I can be discharged, but it depends on how my breathing is by then.

I had a partially collapsed lung, caused by one of my two broken ribs puncturing it, plus my two other fractured ones. My lung is almost fully healed, but my ribs hurt anytime I move, breath, think, anything. I also bruised my left wrist up pretty bad, and broke my left ankle. Now, I have to use crutches, which hurts my wrist like a bitch. The entire left side of my body is covered in road rash, except for my arms, thanks to my leather jacket. My favorite jacket may be destroyed, but at least my skin is mostly okay. I wore my helmet, so thankfully nothing is wrong with my head, but I'm pissed I have to fork out another 200 plus dollars to replace the one I was wearing.

"I don't want to, but I have to work," Ryder says to me, slowly getting up. "I've already missed two days. I don't have very many vacation days, and I planned on using some to go see my parents in a few months."

"I'm sorry..." I trail off. "I didn't know... I didn't mean to take those days from you." Now I feel guilty. He told me he rarely ever gets to see his parents, and I know it hurts.

"Don't be sorry. If I didn't want to use them to be with you, I wouldn't have, idiot." He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, then starts to gather his things.

"Hey," I whisper, reaching for his wrist. He turns around, eyes glistening in the florescent lights in my hospital room. "Please be careful, okay?"

He walks back over to me, sadness in his eyes. "Of course I will," he says, bending down to hug me. I hold him as tight as I can, hoping he'll stay. Sadly, he pulls away after a moment, leaving my body cold where his presence once was. "I love you."

My heart flutters. We may have been saying the big 'L' word for a few days now, but my heart still skips a beat every damn time. "I love you, idiot. Now go. Leave me here, all alone to suffer."

"You're so dramatic," he scoffs with a laugh. "I'll be back in just over eight hours, and your parents will be back soon." He pecks my lips softly, then rushes out, now running late.

I'm officially bored. I've flipped through every channel, deciding TV sucks. I've outdone myself on binge watching Netflix, social media is no fun anymore, I've exhausted pretty much every game in the App Store, and I've read so many books that I don't know if I'm even able to comprehend words anymore.

"What's up, I'm Jared, I'm 19 years, old, and I never fucking learned how to read," I mumble to myself. Not even Vines will cheer me up. I guess there's only one thing left to do, and I've been putting it off for days now. I need to read the news article.

The day after my wreck, an article was published. I hadn't realized it was bad enough for it to even qualify for the news. I open the local news station's website, and scroll until I find the 'accidents' section. I hesitatingly click on it, and my article is the first one to show up.

Ran down? I still have such a vague memory of the accident, but I could have sworn that I pulled out, and they came around a blind turn. Nobody has told me anything different, at least. Maybe this isn't even my article, but I guess I'll continue to read.

Sunday, April 27th, 2018

On late Saturday afternoon, an accident occurred near State Route 92 involving one motorcycle and one car. Corina Hamilton was traveling Northbound by motorcycle on Tomoka Farms Road, preparing to turn right onto SR 92. As Hamilton began to take her turn, Don Shapiro, traveling Northwest on SR 92, collided with Hamilton in his 1992 Dodge Durango. According to witnesses, Shapiro was traveling at least 25 miles per hour faster than the speed limit, and was possibly under the influence of alcohol, putting him at fault.

One witness, who asked not to be named, stated the following:

"I was sitting on my front porch, which was near the accident, when I heard a loud motorcycle pull over. A young girl was riding it. When she pulled over, the same Durango passed her and turned around in my driveway to pass her again. It seemed like he was hunting her down. She stopped at the stop sign just up the street from me, and as she pulled out, the Durango flew around the turn. He was clearly speeding, and he had been swerving around like he was drunk the previous times he had passed."

As for now, Hamilton is being treated at Halifax Health Center with minor injuries. Shapiro has not been seen since. If anyone has any information of his whereabouts, please call the local authorities. He was last seen at Halifax Health Center, fleeing before the authorities could arrive. He was driving a gold Dodge Durango, wearing a black baseball cap, black t-shirt, light was blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.

I stare at the screen in complete and utter shock. Don Shapiro, as in Mr. Shapiro, my neighbor, tried to kill me? Was he the one that my dad was yelling at? Did he leave me that terrifying voicemail?

Needing to figure things out, I call Ryder, praying he can answer.

It only takes two rings before he picks up. "Hey," he says sweetly. "I can't talk for too long, but my boss said I'm good to talk for a few and make sure you're okay."

"It was Mr. Shapiro," I state, but I meant it more as a question.

Ryder sighs, then pauses for a moment. The silence is tearing me apart. Finally, he sighs again, then says, "I know."

"You knew?" I shout into the phone. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Your parents didn't want me to, Corina. They wanted you to feel safe when you went back to your apartment."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't know, asshole." I hear him sigh again, and I instantly feel guilty. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped. You respected my parents' wishes, and I appreciate that. I'm just sick of being left in the dark, the last one to know anything."

"I really did want to tell you," he sighed again. "How did you find out?"

"I read the news article," I sheepishly admit. "I'm just glad to know what really happened and that I don't suck at riding."

"Of course you don't suck at riding, idiot. I wouldn't trust anyone else to ride me around on a motorcycle," he says with a slight chuckle. "Hey, I'm sorry, but I have to get heading back. I'll let you know when I'm on my way to you, okay?"

"Okay," I say sadly. "I love you."

"I love you," he says, then hangs up. With those words, my spirits are lifted.

My parents return a few hours later with lunch. I know I need to confront them about the secrets they've been keeping from me, but I just don't know how. I need to put myself into the 'don't think, just do' mindset, but it's not as easy as it seems.

"What all have you done today, Corina?" my dad asks, mouth full of chicken.

"I just laid around, like usual," I say rolling my eyes. "I did some reading."

"What did you read?" my mom asks.

Okay, Corina, now is your time. Deep breaths, but not too deep. I can't puncture my lung again. Here goes nothing. "I, I just read a news article." Come on, Corina! Don't wimp out now!

My parents look at me in shock, then relax, probably assuming it wasn't the article about my wreck. Mom perks up, smiling at me. "What about, sweetie?"

"Oh, just a motorcycle wreck." There you go! Keep going, Corina! "Apparently some girl was being hunted down by her drunk neighbor. It was weird, though. She had the same name as me, and her neighbor's name was Don Shapiro! Just like my neighbor! Do you remember him?" Nice, Corina! Make your parents feel guilty, and they'll have to confirm it!

"Wow, that sure is weird," dad replies. Maybe they won't confirm it, then.

"At first I thought it was about me, you know? Same names, my neighbor even drives the same car as the guy in the article! It obviously couldn't have been us, though, since it was all my fault. I'm the one who pulled out in front of him."

Suddenly, mom throws her chicken leg down onto her plate and stand up. "I can't take it anymore!" she screams. "Jim, you've made me lie to my daughter for long enough!" She's accusingly pointing her finger at my dad, and he just stares in shock. Turning to me, she starts again. "Corina, that article is about your wreck. Your dad made Ryder and me lie to you, thinking it would protect you, but I feel as though it only made you feel worse."

"Anne," my dad says softly, standing up with her.

"Not another word from you, Jim." I've never seen my mom so angry, but I'm kind of proud of her. "Either you shut the hell up or you leave. Make your choice." He stares in disbelief at her, then turns to me for support. I look away, and he gets the hint, stomping out of the room.

I look at my mom and see her standing tall and strong, but tears are flowing down. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that," she says, walking over to me. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

I chuckle. "Are you kidding? I'm glad I saw that! I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself." She leans down to hug me.

"I wonder if he'll come back tonight," I say. Ryder is now back from work, and him and my mom are sitting at the foot of my bed. He brought a deck of cards, so we're playing Go Fish. "Got any Twos?"

"Go fish," he snickers.

"I don't think so," my mom says, staring at her hand, "and at this point, I honestly don't care. That was so selfish of him." She sighs, then stares at her hand some more as Ryder asks her for Eights. She slowly hands him two cards, rolling her eyes.

"Corina, do you have any Eights?" He's staring at me with a smirk, like he knows I have some.

"Go fish, bitch," I say with a wink, staring down at my hand of three Twos and two Fives.

"I bet," he retorts. "Let me see your hand."

"No way, that's cheating!" I laugh at him, pulling my hand away so that he can't get to it. "Mom, do you have any Fives?" She looks at me with an evil look.

"Go fish," she says with a laugh. I roll my eyes at her, pulling a Queen from the deck.

Half an hour later, and the game finally finished. My mom won with three points, Ryder had two, and I didn't get any. "Wow guys, thanks for making the injured girl feel like crap, making her lose a child's game."

"Don't be such a sore loser," my mom says, rolling her eyes at me.

"Yeah, idiot," Ryder chimes in, scooting up to lay next to me. "You at least won something!"

"What?" I ask, curious as to what he has to say.

"You won my heart."

"That's so damn cheesy," I say, trying to cover the butterflies in my stomach and the blush forming on my cheeks.

"You know you like cheesy," he says, kissing my cheek. I roll my eyes and shove him playfully.

"So cute," I hear my mom mumble from the other side of the room, staring at her phone. "I'm so happy you two found each other."

I blush more, and Ryder pulls my face to his. "I am too," he whispers, then kisses me sweetly.

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Answers! We finally have some answers!

Are ya'll shocked? What did ya'll think? Let me know!

I didn't read through and edit this all the way so sorry for any errors lol

Comment, vote, do the things. You know the drill.

Seeee yaaaaaa