Life to be Decided
an excerpt

Prologue, or, The Bus Driver’s thoughts

“Oh my God . . . I just hit a kid!”

Thought One

For some reason I keep remembering strange things. Like this one time in school when I was younger, and some kid called me a freak, and someone else laughed. I think I was sad, but I honestly can not remember that much about it. Except the fact that others started laughing too. I think I was sad. If something like that happened today I would be kind of sad, so I think the same thing applies for when I was younger. Maybe. Getting hit by buses makes you remember weird things. At least when I was hit by the bus people were actually worried about me instead of laughing at me. That feeling is nice, knowing some stranger cares about whether you live or die. Much nicer than being laughed at. Although it seems kind of odd that being hit by a bus would be a better experience for me than going to school. I should ask my parents about that. Maybe I should see some kind of therapist, instead of just my counselor. If I went up to her and asked her why I like getting hit by buses instead of going to school she might just get really sad, which I do not want. And I do not necessarily like getting hit by buses. Just the feeling that someone cares that comes from being hit and hearing some stranger yell “OH MY GOD, SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!”. You feel really special after that. And damaged. You feel very damaged after getting hit by a bus too. I cannot remember what exactly the doctor said was broken, but it was probably something important, what with all these wrappings and machines. I am glad they are not too loud, or I could not get to sleep. Sleep. I feel sleepy. Maybe I should just rest. . .
Chapter 1 or, The Lowens Worry

The sitting room was quiet. No one really felt like talking, like it was taboo in such a place. The all white walls and floors were not helping. The hospital did not feel inviting at all. Especially to Mr. and Mrs. Lowen. They tried to think of better things, but the room overwhelmed them to a near point of crushing them. They did not like the waiting, they wanted to see their daughter. The poor thing was hit by a bus while they were in the city. They felt so nervous they could hardly take it any more. But they did not have to wait much longer.
“Hm, is there a Mr. and or Mrs. Lowen here?”
“YES.”
“oh, yes.”
“If you would come with me please, you can see your daughter now.”
They sighed with relief. If she had been killed, a doctor or someone else would have come out and been much more grave, but this nice young lady had come instead, to take them to their daughter. Their happiness and apprehension could not be measured. I’m being serious. I don’t have an emotion ruler, do you? This is not important, back to the Lowens. They followed closely behind the nurse, almost breathing down her neck, when she suddenly turned right. Then she turned left. This hospital was like a maze! She turned left again. She smiled and pointed at a room. The Lowens rushed over and opened the door.
“OH, MY BABY!” Mrs. Lowen exclaimed, her tone hushed but still very loud by hospital standards. Mr. Lowen grimaced at the sight before him. Their precious, though regularly confused, daughter was wrapped up to the point that hardly any of her epidermis was showing. From what he could see, she had broken the bones in one of her legs, various bones in her arms and he guessed that there were some broken ribs as well. He could see the IV placed very precariously between some bandages on her arm, trying to replace some of the blood she lost when she got hit. As Mrs. Lowen sobbed quietly next to her daughter’s bed, Mr. Lowen thought. He thought very hard.
His daughter had a hard life, no matter how much he did for her. Whether it was some problem at school with the other kids or just what they were learning, or just having bad luck in general, she never seemed to be able to catch a break. He wanted to do something, but what could he do? He had tried many things, and was always there to support her whenever she needed him. He wanted to blame himself for all of this, but he knew it would change nothing, and that it really was out of his control. As he gazed down on his daughter, with tubes in her nose to help her breathe in spite of the damage to her lungs, he made a decision. If his daughter was to have a chance at a good life, they would have to start over. Go somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it wasn’t here. He could get a transfer or something, and have his daughter transferred to a new school, where there would be a higher possibility of her being happier than she was at her current school.
Yes. That is what they would do, they would start over, and leave as much bad things behind them as they could.