Could he tell the darkness from the light as he spun in hopeless fantasy on that final night? It always seems he couldn't as he spun out of control in that shadows that semed so strange to him.
All his life he had been with others. He didn't hate being alone because he didn't know it. It was as foriegn as Cryllic to his American self.
He loved the "old" bands, the good bands. The Beach Boys were his favorite and he knew a lot about them.
Then one day the boy was riding down the road in a vehicle with his parents, siblings and best friends. One minute, he was laughing with them and knowing only happiness. The next minute, the road lomed ahead as the car flipped through the air post-collision.
He heard screams as unconsciousness hit.
"Mr. Hanson, how are you today?" A nurse who's middle name was probably Chipper asked.
He scowled. "I told you, call me Taylor. I'm just fine. Thanks soooo much for asking."
"Now, now. No need to be sarcastic. Now, c'mon. We have to get you dressed."
"What for?"
"Well, the funerals are today."
"What made you think I wanted to go?"
"I just assumed that..."
"Don't assume things. I don't want to go."
"Would you care to tell me why not?"
"No, I wouldn't. But, you'll probably pester me if I don't so I'll go ahead and tell you. I don't want to be reminded that I'm the only one who lived through that crash. Besides, I only half lived through it. I hate not beign able to use my legs. Damn my arms hurt!"
Silence filled the room for a moment. The nurse spoke again. "Of course your arms hurt. You've been forcing yourself through physical therapy. Would you like soem Tylenol?"
"I'd prefer Orudis KT. Tylenol doesn't work fast enough."
"Okay then. I'll go get you some."
"Okay," he responeded with a mocking tone. He shut up when she glared at him over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
For a moment, he let his guard down and let the momeorie flow through him, hoping they were released with the accompanying tears.
He heard a voice ask, "How do you feel?"
He answered honestly. "Lonely."
"How can you feel lonely? You're not alone."
"Yeah, right. Everyone I cared about is dead."
"So, you're dead?"
"No. Of course not."
"So, you don't care about yourself?"
"Not really."
"Not really what?"
He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. The nurse was back. "Nothing."
"Okay. Well, here's your medicine."
"Thanks."
The nurse left and he swallowed the pain relievers dry, wishing that he could have something prescription strength. He hated when they made rules against things like that.
He was stuck in a place he hated with people he couldn't stand. He couldn't sleep, didn't want to eat the crap they served him and certainly didn't like physical therapy.
Every day he had to get up early to go strengthen his upper body. It just reminded him that he would never be able to use his legs again. Today was no different in that aspect.
It was different in one aspect, though. Usually, he had to work in silence, but today someone had graciously turned on the radio.
eh music stirred the desire within him to enjoy life despite it's hardships. Every not reminded him of the good days when he and his brothers had a successful band, but the memories did not fill him with remorse.
Lying in bed now, invisible tears finally drying, he still felt lonely. "Just get back in the light."
"The light?"
"You know. You know the light, it knows you. You were so happy then."
"That was about 3 months ago. Now, I'm back in the recording studio. I figure I'll start a scholarship with the money I make."
Rosie O'Donnell nodded from her spot to his left. "That is so sweet of you Taylor. So, are you still lonely?"
"Sort of. I'm currently looking for a girlfriend. Maybe it'll happen."
He laughed as screams erupted in the audience as the light shone down upon him. "The light. I'm back in the light."
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