There wasn't really a reason for writing this...I guess it was when I realized how important family are to you and I thought I should show the world. Or maybe I was just bored..we shall never know.



I just wanted to prove to them that I could do it. That I could be an adult. That I could be independent. That I wasn't a kid anymore. I didn't think they'd notice and then when I came in I could tell them and that would prove to them I wasn't a kid. And then they would have to treat me better.

"I'm sorry Mr and Mrs Henderson, Scott suffered severe head injuries during the crash. Although he is a stable condition, he is still in a coma". I watched as the doctor gave my parents the news. He had his head bowed and he wasn't looking them in the eye. "I am sorry, but there is nothing more we can do for him". "So what are you saying, are you telling me my son is going to die?" I could hear the tears in my Dad's voice. I didn't have to look. "No, Mr Henderson, I am saying that it is up to Scott now. But I must warn you, the longer your son is unconscious, the less chance there will be of him waking up."

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't even think they would notice. They don't usually pay much attention to me when I'm in the house. When they do talk to me it's usually to lecture me about revision for my exams, or homework, or acting my age. This wasn't supposed to happen.

I followed my parents as the doctor led them to a small room. I'd already seen myself in the back of the ambulance, but my parents weren't there then. It was just me, Phil and Sarah. I hadn't seen them since they took me out of theatre. I guess they are with the Police now. I remember seeing them hanging about at the accident scene. That was what they kept calling it 'the scene of the accident' as they talked into their little radios. I was the only one who was injured, the other two were fine. Last I saw of them was them being taken away by the Police. I hope neither of them gets into trouble, it was me who took the car.

Mum is holding one of my hands and dad is trying to hold the other, but he is afraid to. Maybe it's all the tubes going into my arm and hand that is putting him off. There's tears rolling down my Mum's face, but somehow I still don't want to go back. I could just get back into my body at any time and I would wake up, but I don't really know if I want too. They treated me like a kid before this happened, if I went back, they would smother me in cotton wool. I'd be grounded forever, probably until I was 18. And it's not too bad here. I can go where I want, walk anywhere. I'd say I was a ghost, but I'm not. I'm more like a shadow of myself. My spirit, my essence of being.

It was strange at first. I didn't know what was happening. I tried reaching out to someone. I tried to touch Sarah's face, to tell her I was alright, but my arm just went straight through her and she wouldn't stop screaming. It was only when I turned around that I realized she was screaming at me.

It took the firemen almost an hour to get me out and when I did there was a scurry of activity around the car. Paramedics rushing about, thrusting needles into my arm and hooking me up to drips. I jumped in the back of the ambulance, along with Sarah and Phil and went along for the ride. I must admit, even at this point I was still freaked out. It was then that I realized I could climb back into my body. I did it and I felt like I was being pulled back in. I even opened my eyes, but at the last minute I pulled back and I found myself stood by my body again.

Mums crying again. I think my Dad has been home to get some of my stuff. My football shirt is pinned above my bed, along with some of my favourite posters. Craggy, my old bear is sat beside me, with his lop-sided teddy grin on his face. He looks so out of place in this sterile room. Dad's arm is around Mum, but her sobbing is uncontrollable and I can see my Dad is struggling to fight back the tears. I can't stay and watch so I go for a wander around the hospital. Oldham Royal is a big hospital. When you come here for an appointment you never realise the true size of it. I wander everywhere, I don't really have a purpose, I just go wherever my feet take me. I stroll through the children's ward and down past maternity. I meander through the winding paths, through the hospital gardens and I finally find myself at the chapel.

The door is slightly ajar and it's giving out welcoming vibes. When I go inside it isn't really like a church. There's a few wooden benches and there's an altar with some lit, scented candles. But the church likeness stops there. It doesn't even smell like a church, it smells of lavender and roses.

I wander over to the altar, but there is nothing interesting there. I notice a side room and I slide through the wall into it. The room is filled with flowers. Funeral Flowers. All shapes and sizes. Each set of flowers had a little note attached and each note told a different story. I read about a girl who died of cancer and how much her little sister missed her. I read about a boy who died suddenly in a hit and run. I saw card from parents who missed their children so much and that they had wished they had treated them more grown up when they were still here. I'm a pretty hard person, but it brought tears to my eyes.

How can I do this to my parents? How can I leave them, wondering what I would've been like. It just wouldn't be fair. I know I should be with them. I can tell them how I feel when I wake up and they'll forgive me. They have to, they're my parents.

I slide out the chapel door and break into a sprint across the hospital lawns and straight through the trees. I run through the doors and up past maternity. I slip through the children's ward doors and run into my room.

But I'm not there. Neither are my parents. But my shirt and posters are still up.

Maybe they moved me? Or maybe they sent me for another X-ray or something. I'm not too panicked by this.

As I meander my way along the sterile corridors I hear the fast rattling of wheels. Even the sound terrifies me. The doctors and the bed rush past me. I didn't get much of a glance but I saw the kid lying there.

The kid was me.

I break into a sprint and follow the bed, but I lose them when they jump into the lift. So instead I follow the signs for the Operating theatres.

It takes me a while to find out where they have taken me. About 15 minutes after they first rushed past me I see my parents, Dad pacing nervously up and down outside the room and Mum sobbing uncontrollably again. But I don't take any notice - I have to find out what is happening.

I slip through the doors and see myself lying on the bed. I arrive just in time to hear the heart monitor stop beeping. All that's left is the monotonous tone of death.

"We lost him" was the last thing I heard before I began to fade. I guess I waited too long.

The End