Hyphema

It's Monday evening now, and my parents let me sleep in today. It has been two nights now since I killed somebody. We went to an ophthalmologist, or in simpler terms a doctor that specializes in eyes, today. He told my mother and I that I have a hyphema, which he believed came from the air bag. After going to the doctor, my mom brought me to the hospital to visit Ellen. Her mother, Mrs. Gerson, told me how awful the shield I now have to wear over my eye is. She also told me how thankful she is that I'm all right. Ellen's parents told me that Ellen had a tube in her mouth to help her breath, one in her chest to reinflate her lung, an IV for antibiotics, an IV for pain, a catheter to help her pass water, and a cast on her leg. My stomach sunk, and once again I felt guilt. I must have apologized six times to Ellen's parents when Mrs. Gerson told me what Cameron had been doing in my lane. There had been a tree branch in her way and she swerved to avoid it. Instead she hit me. I panicked, not knowing how to respond to this. Breathing heavily, I managed to spit out the first thing I could think of. I informed Mr. and Mrs. Gerson that although their daughter had an extremely high blood-alcohol content, she did not have a drinking problem. I proceeded to ramble on about how Ellen doesn't always drink, and she never does drugs, and she has never had an addiction to anything. After they saw the pain it took me to say these things, I was let into Ellen's hospital room. She looked as dirty and uncomfortable as she had before. I told her about my being excused from school and the shield I am required to wear. When I remembered that Ellen couldn't talk anyway because of the tube in her mouth I grabbed a sheet of paper, and announced to her my plan to write an apology letter to Cameron's family. I wanted to get my feelings down on paper that could be read by others, and I wanted Cameron's family to realize that what I had done I was sincerely sorry for, and I needed them to know that I would never intentionally do anything to hurt Cameron. I wanted to write so badly, but I couldn't bring my pen to my paper. My hand shook, my eyes watered (which wasn't good because apparently that doesn't help my hyphema), and the screaming, stopped ran through my head again. I couldn't do it.