Thirty-Two: JaredThe light bulb above the bed had a flicker. My eyes were burning from staring at it for so long, but I'd forgotten how to blink. Or breathe. Five minutes ago, a nurse had come to check on me. She apologized for my loss. It was the first time I'd been awake without my mom or dad in the room to speak to the medical staff, and confusion set in. Remember. Remember what happened. Remember, remember, remember. I remembered the truck. I remembered… chaos, briefly. The more I tried to focus and stared at that stupid light, I thought I could remember waking up in the ambulance and speaking to a paramedic. Yes. He asked a lot of inane questions. I realized he was trying to assess my mental capabilities. I could not remember what had happened immediately before the truck. It hurt to
