Content Warning: I really don't think that one is necessary. Yes, two women are in love in this story but nothing major. It's more mentioned than anything.

Personal: This is my first and I hoping that it won't be my last. Please send your comments to xengab01@aol.com. I'm thinking of writing another part to the story, but that really depends on how this part does. Enjoy

Let me start off by saying that I am just a kid. Do not be mistaken by my worldly experience that I am in any way an adult. I am only seventeen years old and no matter how much I would like to deny it, I am still just a kid. Actually, I think I like being able to be a kid. It's not something that I always really wanted or had.

This story believe it or not isn't really about me. It's about two people that made all the difference in my life at my most vulnerable, worst, and unpleasant times. Their names are Sam and Dana. I guess I could start off by saying that they helped me and now I'm a great kid that is being offered college scholarships and am in the top ten percent of my class, but that wouldn't really make this a story now would it? I would just be informing you as to what happened to me 'back when.'

All right, let me get started with the important stuff so as you will not be preoccupied wondering who I am, what I look like and the like. My name is Victorianna Elizabeth Ann Marcus. I think that my parents thought the grander my name was the more worldly they would seem to be. That notion was never really justified in any way. It just meant that my name was long. I shortened it to Tori, but it was of course beneath my parents to recognize shortening my name.

You're probably wondering by now why the hostile comments toward my parental units, and I can say nothing really but I never really liked them. I loved them, or at least I think I did. I mean isn't it a requirement, to love your parents? Those incredible people who gave you life and provide you with the essential things in life. Yes, I loved them. I just pray and hope that I never turn out to be like them. My therapist would be getting a field day with this information so let's not spread the word.

Yes, I am in therapy. I obviously have problems so it's a good thing that I do get help. I've had the same therapist ever since the 'accident.' She's a very nice person and I'm afraid that I haven't been the most forward of patients. I've gotten better over the years and I'd like to think that she is a rare adult friend of mine.

Back to my parental units, well we never got along and I hated them and then they died. I almost died too and that's where this little journey of mine begins. I was about twelve at the time and keep in mind that my parents were extraordinarily well off. By that I mean rich. They were always going to parties and showing off their little girl to their very rich friends always saying, " this is wonder daughter Victorianna she can't stay up too long though because she has to go to her school you know, Hogden. The private school only the best go there. Then of course she has her violin lessons and?" Blah, Blah, Blah insert some sort of text that shows off little girl as a possession. I'm sure you get the picture.

Anyway, we were all on our way to another party where I would be shown off yet again. We never made it there. On our way we got in a car accident. We were in a limousine and weren't wearing seatbelts. The sunroof was open and I got thrown out. Which actually saved my life, because the limousine exploded and all those within died immediately. I ended up with two broken legs, a broken left wrist, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and some minor internal bleeding.

I don't really remember much about the accident or the trip to the hospital. It was just a big blur of images that even today I can't fully decipher. The only thing that I really remember clearly is the morning I woke up in the hospital bed and there was a doctor sitting there next to my bed with short blond hair and emerald green eyes waiting for me to wake up. Sitting there so a little twelve-year-old kid wouldn't wake up alone.

My throat was dry when I woke up. I had no idea where I was, what day it was or even if I was alive. I looked around to gather in my surroundings and the first thing I remember seeing directly to my left was a woman with a lab coat on. She was asleep and I squinted my eyes so I could see here nametag. It read Doctor Samantha Evans and a bunch of other small print that I couldn't make out. I cleared my throat hoping to wake her and it worked. She jumped right up from her chair and began examining me. " How do you feel?" Her voice was soft and non-threatening.

"What happened?"

"You were in an accident." I could tell that she was bracing herself for the questions that would follow. She never took her eyes away from mine but I could tell that she desperately wanted to. All the sudden I didn't want to ask the question that was hanging on the tip of my tongue. Still it came unbidden, "What happened to my parents?"

She looked away for a moment. I think to gather herself, because she took as deep breath then exhaled very slowly. "I'm sorry they didn't make it."

I don't know if I can describe the pain that followed that statement. It was as if my heart had silently imploded in my chest and then in an effort to heal itself the blood was pumped quicker but the passage through which it went just kept on getting smaller. I didn't cry because I wasn't able to. I didn't breath because wasn't able to. I didn't think because I wasn't able to. All I could do was concentrate on the pain in my chest. The incredible pain.

Now you must be thinking 'Why did your parents death affect you so much I thought that you hated them?' Well, I never cared for the way my parents treated me. I didn't like the people that they were, but I do believe that I have mentioned that I loved them. I carried that obligation of loving your parents like every other child does. They were still Mom and Dad, and no matter how much I did dislike them I loved them and I was a twelve year old who had just lost her parents.

Doctor Evans said nothing more to me. I think she was waiting for the water works to come. They didn't. That's when she reached over and took me in her arms and held me, and as soon as her hand touched my body the paralysis that had suddenly taken over was gone. I started crying. Crying so hard and for so long that I ran out of tears. My eyes could no longer shed one more tear. Dr. Evans just stayed there with me and never let me go. Needless to say Dr. Evans quickly became a favorite of mine.

The next day was no easier than the first. When I woke up that morning I hoped that the previous one had just been a bad dream. Of course only disappointment awaited that disillusionment. The next day brought on the pain that racked through my body that I had previously ignored because of the pain in my heart. I was brought fully aware that I had broken bones and messed up insides. It also brought social workers, more doctors, lawyers, and my psychiatrist Mary Jackson.

Dr. Evans was with me for the most part. I'm not really sure but I think that she took the day off just to stay with me. I really appreciated that even though at the time I failed to mention it. The social worker was there because I was an orphan. My parents had no living relatives that could care for me and didn't think of giving me any godparents. Which was almost a blessing because I really didn't want to go to any of their rich friends. I could never stand any of them, still can't. The lawyers came to explain to me that I couldn't get my inheritance until I was eighteen, but I would be given a certain allowance of forty-five thousand dollars a year for my expenses that would be given to my foster parent and maybe even my adoptive parents. I'm sure you could guess why the psychiatrist was there.

For the time being I was going to stay in the hospital until I was fit for placement. Which wouldn't be for a while because I had many months of therapy ahead both physical and mental. Everyone thought it would be best for me to stay until something more permanent could be arranged. I don't particularly remember being asked about it though. Dr. Evans was always involved in all the conversations about my welfare and for some reason I trusted her. I would do what ever she thought best.

The third day was easier than the previous two and I only say that not necessarily because the pain in my heart was any less but because the only person that I had to deal with was Dr. Evans. I know that she worked this day but on her break she came to talk to me and during any free time she had she came. We really didn't talk about anything significant the first time we talked. We'd just talk about the news or about my injuries but we never talked about the accident. That changed the fourth day.

On the fourth day Dr. Evans showed up in my room after her shift and sat down in the chair that I first saw her in when I woke up that first day. At first we talked about her day and the many experiences she had working in the E.R. Then the conversation turned. I think that I involuntarily initiated it.

"How long do you think my physical therapy is going to last?"

Dr. Evans looked at me and I could tell that she was considering her answer carefully. "Well first we have to see how fast your legs heal. Then, we're just going to have and wait and see. You're young I'm sure it won't be a problem. Are you worried about the therapy?"

It was a seemingly innocent question that I could have said a simple no to but that wasn't the case. "No I'm not worried about the therapy I'm worried about what will happen afterwards."

She looked puzzled for a moment but her face quickly showed understanding. She didn't say anything. I'm not sure she knew what to.

"My parents are dead and they're not coming back. I don't have anywhere to go after I leave here. I'm scared about that." I looked away from her gentle eyes I didn't want to face them for fear that she would see me as cowardly.

Dr. Evans gently grabbed my chin with her forefinger and thumb and gently forced me to look into her eyes. I saw nothing but sincerity and conviction there. "Tori, you don't have to worry about that yet, and when that time does come I still don't want you to worry because I promise you that you will be well taken care of."

I believed her and my worries went away. My own mother could never do that to me. I was amazed that this person could. Seeing as that I could trust her with one of my emotions I took a chance and decided to divulge another. "Inside it hurts." This I said in barely a whisper but she heard.

She moved closer to me and sat on the bed, but said nothing. I was beginning to open up and I don't think she wanted to interrupt.

"I don't have a home and I don't have any family left. It hurts." I paused to take a breath and I slid closer to her and she put her arms around me. I needed support for what I was going to ask. "Did my parent's die because I didn't like them?"

Dr. Evans just held me tighter in her arms and quickly eradicated that thought from my mind. "Of course not Tori." She kissed my head lightly and snuggled her chin there. "It was just your parent's time that's all. There's no real way to explain it." Then she leaned down and looked me in the eyes like she had done previously and said with all seriousness in her voice, "No matter what anyone says or anyone thinks this wasn't your fault. Your. Parents. Death. Wasn't. Your. Fault. Don't you dare let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even yourself."

I started crying again. Not from pain like before but from relief. In the back of my mind I blamed myself for the death of my parents. In my child-like mind I thought that because I didn't like my parents like all good kids did, I was being punished by their death. It was very liberating to be told otherwise even more so since I believed her. It wasn't my fault.

Again, Dr. Evans just held me and let me cry. When I was done she got up and told me she'd be right back. When she came back she carried two small quarts of ice cream. "Ice cream always made me feel better after a good cry. How about it; you want some?" I shook my head vigorously and she handed me a quart of chocolate chip ice cream and a plastic spoon.

She sat down next to me and we started eating or treats. Silence filled the room while we be both ate, but I suddenly had the urge to ask her questions. The only thing I knew about her was that she was a Doctor for the E.R., was very talkative, and had a good shoulder to cry on.

"Do you have any kids?" I thought I'd start with an easy question.

"No, I don't. Why do you ask?"

" You're good with kids, at least you are with me not that I'm a kid though. I just wondered if you had any special practice or something." Her emerald eyes seemed to light up at the comment. I thought I'd just push on. "You married?" I'm not sure but I think that she almost choked on her ice cream.

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No." The answer was drawn out.

"Girlfriend?" I'm sure she choked on her ice cream that time.

"Why all the questions?" Her face seemed to take on a different shade. Some would call it a brick red.

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally and answered, "It's just that I don't know anything about you and?" I thought for a moment. "Have you ever heard of the saying 'stranger danger'?" She looked at me with utter confusion written plainly on her face, but shook her head in the affirmative. "Well I just figure that you're a stranger and I've been trusting you a lot I think that it just makes since to make you not such a stranger." I got her. She knew I got her. I knew that I got her and I'm sure that if there were anyone else in the room they would have known it as well.

"Let me go make a phone call and then I'll be back and we can talk okay?" I nodded and she picked up our now empty ice cream containers threw them away and walked out of the room. About ten minutes later she returned minus her lab coat and scrubs. She wore a pair of Levi's with a plain white t-shirt. She walked over to my bed and sat down beside me. I think she used the time she had taken not only to make her phone call and to change but to also prepare for the conversation we were about to have.

"Okay, what is it you want to know?"

I decided to go with the easier questions. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. Next question." She had definitely prepared.

"How long have you been working here, and are you rich?" That got a good laugh from her.

"I've worked the E.R. for about two years now and no I am by no means rich. I think that is a long time in coming considering all the money I owe in student loans. Becoming a doctor isn't cheap."

"Do you have any family, and family includes a significant other even if they're not yet considered or may never be considered family." Dr. Evans' eyes widened significantly. "How old are you really because you can't be twelve. I don't know a single twelve year old that speaks the way you do."

"My parents made me go to grammar schools and stuff. They taught me speak properly and everything else that you're suppose to know as a member of the upper class. I learned how to ask questions from my parents because they always taught me how to avoid answering certain questions without lying. By doing that I learned how to ask questions to get the answers you really want." I conveniently explained. I also realized that she conveniently had changed the subject. I was not led so easy astray. "So?"

"So? what?" She played the innocent not so well.

"So what is your answer to my question which I asked before you tried to change the subject." My answer was indignant.

"My parents live in Iowa. I have two sisters Angela and Kathy both younger. Kathy is married to a real estate agent named Ted and they have two girls, Anna who is five and Linda who is three. Kathy isn't married but attends college somewhere in the country of Texas." She raised her eyebrows as if to say 'Satisfied'.

I of course wasn't. She was hiding something from me. I'm sure that you've heard that kids are good at reading people. Well, I'm not sure about that but I could certainly read Dr. Evans. She was pretty much an open book though.

"And?"

She knew that she had not gotten away with anything. She resigned to her fate whatever it was. I didn't really think about what I was asking, I didn't think I had to. To me it was an easy question to her it wasn't. "And yes I have a girlfriend her name is Dana. The hospital doesn't know though because I'm not sure they would still want me to work here." For the first time she didn't look me in the eye when she talked to me.

My parents were ultra conservative. I'm not sure either of them knew what liberal meant. Luckily for me though my parent's didn't really raise me. A bunch of different nannies did. One of my nannies was a young woman who taught me tolerance and acceptance for everyone. No matter who they were or what status they had in the community. Which although one might think that my parents would teach me to be open-minded, because my mother was a blue eyed, dark hair, Spanish woman who was married to my brown eyed, dark skinned, father. He was a member of the NAACP. My parents could easily be called hypocrites. Their intolerance for certain people, which didn't exclude gays and lesbians, was one of utter fascination for me. Thinking about their attitude always offered me many hours of contemplation.

Now to say that my parent's opinions never once altered the way I thought about things, I would be telling a blatant lie. They influenced me, but Dr. Evans in four short days had become someone very important to me. I would not and could not pass judgment on her. So, I reacted the best way I could, I just asked more questions. "What does she do?" Dr. Evans didn't seem like she was expecting that from me, I think she was expecting for me to condemn her with my sky blue eyes.

"She's a surgeon for this hospital." Suddenly a light went on in my head and I put two and two together. There was this surgeon that I had seen during my stay at the hospital with the name of Dr. Dana Everett. She was actually the one who operated on me when I first came into the hospital. I was almost a hundred percent sure that these woman where one in the same. "Have I already met her?" I just needed to confirm my suspicions.

"Yes, you have but please don't tell anyone okay. I don't think that everyone would take it exactly like you have."

Let me explain Dana to you if that is even possible. She is a tall, dark haired, blue eyed, beauty that no one in their right mind would want to mess with. She was very gentle with me and although I had only seen her maybe all of two time, one of which I was on an operating table out cold, I like her. I think that Dr. Evans saw the approving look in my eyes but she decided to remain silent.

"Dr. Evans can I ask you just one more question?" I put on the best puppy dog look I could muster.

"Sure what else is it you want to know?" She rubbed my head gently.

" I don't really want to know anything else right now, I just wanted to tell you that I really have to pee." I know that my face had turned red although I'm not sure she could tell because of my dark skin.

She smiled gently at me and gave her head a little shake. "I'll just leave then and will get the nurse." She got up to leave and walked to the door, but before she walked out she turned to me and just looked at me for a moment. Then I guess she decided to say whatever she was thinking. "Tori, why don't you just call me Sam." I know that a smile bigger than Mt. Everest had to be showing on my face but I wasn't ashamed. "I'll see you tomorrow Tori." She turned to walk out of the room but before she had made it out of the room I gently called to her, "Sam, thanks." She smiled a full tooth grin and then turned and left. She understood that I wasn't just thanking her for letting me use her nickname.

After four does come five and so on to the fifth day. On the fifth day I got a visit from none other than Dr. Dana Everett herself. She came to check on how I was doing in my recovery and to make sure that I still didn't have any internal bleeding. When I saw her step into the room I had no idea how to act. I knew something about her that almost no one else in the hospital did and most importantly I didn't know if she knew that I knew. It just created a world of confusion for me. If Dr. Everett did know then she gave no hint that she did, and I was desperately looking for a hint.

When she finished examining me she sat down in the now famous chair next to my bed and decided to talk to me. Let me tell you that it was one of the scariest moments of my young life. "I thought that I'd get to know you a little bit to see what kind of person has taken up so much time with Sam." Her statement wasn't accusatory I actually think that it was a joke. At least she almost fully admitted that she knew that I knew. "Okay what is it you want to know?" I suddenly had a flash of déjà vu except I was the one that was being the one asked the question and a green eyed woman sat across from me.

Dr. Everett smiled at me; actually it was more of a smirk. "What ever you feel like saying."

I was brain dead. I couldn't think of a single thing that I could say to her. I knew somewhere that I had vocal cords that worked but they just didn't want to make themselves present at that particular time. Dr. Everett just waited patiently. "I really like Sam." I don't know why but that was the first thing that was able to tumble out of my mouth. That got me a grin. I was moving up in the world. "I like her too." She didn't decide to elaborate so all the sudden it was up to me to say something again. Questions were always good that or honesty. Dr. Everett didn't really seem like the person that would openly answer all my questions so I decided on honesty, "I really don't know what to say." I wonder if that sounded as pitiful as I thought is sounded.

"Why don't you just tell me about yourself. Sam says you're a very interesting person." Her voice was gentle but it did have that underlying since of power that always seemed to be there.

"Okay. I play the violin but I don't consider myself very musical. I love sports although my parents didn't fully support my decision to play any. I love helping my dad's mechanic fix up the old cars and motorcycles that my father collected, and I'd say that's about all." I thought a moment and decided to just ask anyway. "What about you?" She looked at me a little surprise but quickly composed herself. "What about me?" She said as smooth as silk and raised her left eyebrow. "Well, why don't you just tell me about yourself. Sam says that you're a very interesting person." I knew I had a smirk on my face.

Dr. Everett narrowed her eyes at me but decided to answer any way. "I'm a surgeon. I have a motorcycle and I like sports too." I would later be told that it was a very enormous feat that I just pulled off. Dr. Everett apparently never talked to anyone but Sam. By answering she was able to open up a line of conversation between us that I was very thankful for. After that barrier had been breached we were able to have a debate over the finer types of motorcycles. Which lead into a conversation that lasted until my psychiatrist came into the room and that was almost three hours later. Dr. Everett was now Dana like Dr. Evans was Sam.

I told my psychiatrist all about my conversations with Sam and Dana. She didn't really say much she just sat and listened which I guess is what she's supposed to do as a psychiatrist and all. She did tell me that I had formed a support system for myself with Dana and Sam. She said that they were good people to trust and talk to. I didn't need her to tell me that, because I already knew. My session with my psychiatrist lasted an hour and then I turned on the T.V. and took a nap.

I woke up to the sound of my hospital room door opening. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes trying to get a clear vision of who was at door. "I'm sorry if we woke you, but we thought you might be hungry." I knew that voice it was Sam and behind her was Dana holding a sack of food that smelled like Chinese. They stepped fully into the room and started laying out the food. "I hope you like Chinese." Dana said with a ruffle to my hair. I smiled and just took in the moment. In all the time I was with my parents, I could never remember having a moment like this. I never talked to my parents and they wouldn't think of bringing me Chinese when I was in the hospital. They'd hire someone to do it. As simplistic as this moment was, it was more than that. I can't really explain what 'more than that' really means; I can just say that it was more.

We sat and ate our Chinese food and Sam and Dana talked about their days and saw fit to include me. I could see the love they had between them and I'm sure that if anyone else ever got close to them like in the same building they could tell what these two meant to each other. I'm not sure their secret was such a secret anymore. I didn't tell them as much but I smiled about it in my head nonetheless. After we had finished eating we talked shortly then they sort of tucked me into bed and left.

The sixth day of my stay at the wonderful hospital was certainly eventful. By that I mean eventful. Dana and Sam had a lot of work to do but they each promised to come see me before they left. I think that they were protecting me because as soon as they became busy, reporters and the like made themselves well known. My parents were rich and somewhat famous, so that made them special, which made me special. They all wanted interviews and my first hand account of what had happened the day of the accident. I grew up with the media as a factor in my life. Even at the age of twelve I knew how to deal with them like a modern day politician.

I decided to grant three lucky interviews one to a major TV station, one for a major newspaper, and one for a magazine, just to cover all my bases. In each interview I voiced my profound pain for the loss of my parents and was even able to make a few tears appear. I told them that I didn't remember the accident which was true and that the hospital was taking very good care of me. I decided not to mention Dana and Sam so they wouldn't be brought into the media's claws. They all asked how I felt about being an orphan. Well, how do you answer a question like that? 'Well so and so it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I mean not knowing where you're going to be in the next few months is a great feeling. I could think of nothing better.' I held that comment to myself and instead answered, "Losing my parents hurts. Knowing that I don't really have anywhere to go hurts more."

I would later regret my candor, because that same day I was overthrown with visits from my parents' friends opening up there home to me of course conveniently in the public eye. They offered to save the poor Marcus girl who captured America's heart. They weren't the only ones of course there were probably very good hearted Americans out there willing to open up there home. There was a fraction of those good Americans that I'm sure meant it, but there was that overwhelming majority that saw dollar signs in their head while offering me a place in their home. I had captured America by storm. I was an orphan of two popular figures.

I wanted to avoid talking really about whom my parents were but that isn't possible. My father Ryan Marcus was a very successful businessman. If you are unfamiliar with the name think of Marcus computing, the multi-billion dollar company that rivals Microsoft. My father was the CEO. He was always on the cover of some magazine or another. The black community for what he had accomplished glorified him. A once gangbanger turned educated successful black man. No matter what I feel about him personally I will never down play what he accomplished. He did do an extraordinary thing, even if he wasn't the best father.

My mother was from Spain. She grew up in a wealthy family and moved to America to become famous by of course American standards. She was an elegant beauty. She had deep blue eyes and golden hair. She was about six feet tall and had a wonderful voice. She became a singer a very successful singer. She never used the name Marcus instead she used her name Antoinette Valdez. She didn't sing opera she sang ironically alternative rock. My mother was a rock star. She wrote her own songs and everything. She even won a Grammy or two. I still can't fit the picture of my mother and this rock star into the same body. That musician wasn't whom I knew. Wasn't even close.

There you have it. I am the product of an ex gangster and a rock star. Those people weren't the ones I knew though, but that's who America knew and that's who they naturally assumed I knew. They were America's fairytale couple and I was there to round off the family. Don't be disillusioned my parent's did love each other and I'm sure they loved me, although they never said it. They were both equally good at what they did and they were both equally bad parents. They were never there and when they were I was there possession. With them now dead I had to deal with their legacy, and just like if a horrible person dies you never hear at there eulogy how awful they were, you weren't going to hear me say anything unpleasant about them.

Anyway, now that I've gotten off on this tangent I should get back on the road I was traveling before. I was America's golden child. America adopted me and that has never changed. It didn't necessarily make my life easier. I did the interviews and politely declined all the inventions I had from people to take me home like I was a lost dog. I had to get through the interviews and the sooner the better.

Right after the reporter had left Sam came barging into the room. A nurse was sitting checking my meds and Sam went off on her. "I thought that I specifically told you that there were to be no interviews!"

The nurse was noticeably flustered. I don't think she expected such an outburst from the well-mannered Sam. I didn't expect that from Sam. "I'm sorry I don't know? she said?" The nurse couldn't make out a full sentence. I decided to save her. I did agree to do the interviews. "It's not her fault." I decided not to raise my voice over anything but a whisper.

"What do you mean it wasn't her fault? You should have never had to give those interviews. It's HER job to make sure that you weren't exposed to that." Sam was angry or maybe more scared for me.

"I had to do it." I forced myself to speak making Sam angry was never a goal of mine. The nurse took the opportunity and bolted, but before she could make it out the door Sam shot her a steely glare and I know some unsaid conversation took place. The nurse looked down and then left. Sam turned back to me. Her eyes had grown a little softer. "You didn't have to do anything."

I didn't want to fight but she didn't understand what I grew up knowing. I was exposed to the publicity and earlier was better. I had to do it or face some serious repercussions later. "I had to, it's an unwritten law when your family is in the public eye." Before Sam and I had never discussed my 'celebrity status'. I don't think she knew how to breach the subject. It was now time. "I'm assuming you know who my parents were?" She shook her head in the affirmative. "I didn't want to speak to them but it's some unwritten rule that I did. I can't really explain it's just something expected that I can't turn my back to."

I still think she didn't fully understand it but she nodded her understanding anyway. "I just don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"Because of who my parents are I'll be doing many things that I am uncomfortable with. It's part of what my life is about. America knew when I was born, when I took my first steps. They knew my parents as these wonder people, and since they're dead now I can't remain silent. It's not fair to everyone. I'm sure that a lot of cards and flowers and visitors will be heading my way it just part of everything." I tried to explain as best I could but felt that I was failing miserably. How do explain something to someone who has never lived their life like you had and do it at the age of twelve? Actually I'm not even sure I could do it at my age now.

I'm sure that the subject would be brought up again and if Sam asked me not to do any other interviews I'm sure I would acquiesce. I couldn't keep up my conviction about the subject around her. She seemed to bring out the part of me that never wanted to be in the media's eye. The part of me that wanted to be a kid and not have the whole world knows that I had just lost my parents. Suddenly a question that had never crossed my mind wanted to be asked. "What about my parents' funeral?" Odd I hadn't of thought about it before. It's as if talking to the reporters about my parents' death all the sudden made it real.

Sam was noticeably put off by the question. I don't think she thought much about it either. It was six days after my parent's death and they had yet to be put to rest. "Do you want to make the arrangements?" She asked me. I didn't know if I could. I didn't know if I even wanted to try. "Can you just call the lawyers and see what it is my parents wanted and have them arrange it." My lawyers were always saying how much they cared for the family and everything else to make sure they retained my services. I'm sure that they would make the funeral exactly how my parents wanted to end their legacy.

"Of course I will. I'll let you know all the details okay." Sam was a great person that I wish could have been there earlier in my life. She again abated my worries. She didn't immediately leave though she sat there with me and held me just like I needed at the time. She was good at that, knowing when exactly I needed support.

Sam left when Dana made an appearance in my room. They stepped outside and talked about me, no doubt. A short time later Dana reentered my room. She sat down at the edge of my bed. "Sam went to go talk to your lawyers." I nodded my head in understanding. "I heard that you had a very eventful day. I was even able to catch part of the interview on NBC."

I don't know why I did and certainly Dana didn't expect it but I started crying yet again. She didn't really reach out to me I more reached out to her. She hesitated a moment but she eventually enveloped me in her arms. This time I cried for the child I couldn't be. I decided not to give any more interviews or making and more TV appearances at least until I was walking out of the hospital on my own two healed legs.

The seventh day was maybe the hardest. Sam had contacted my lawyers and they had decided to make a big announcement following my interviews saying that the funeral would be held on that the next day, which was my seventh day in the hospital. They were given assurances by Sam that I could make the funeral. The public wasn't given much notice but there was an enormous turn out at the church anyway. Celebrities and friends filled the churches from wall to wall. Everyone was there to show their respects and some even came to show me support. My dad's mechanic, Paul, was there. He was the one who showed me how to really tune an engine and fix one up. Sam came with me strictly as my doctor, but I know that she came to support me. Of course where Sam goes I think Dana would follow. She came under the premise that she was going to help Sam help me. For whatever reason they were there, I was glad.

The funeral was short but sweet. Many people came up to me and gave me their condolences. Some were famous, some weren't. Some I knew some I didn't. Members of my mother's band came up to me and offered their sympathies. They were all nice. I always like them. They never treated me badly and they were some of the incredibly small amount of people who knew how my parents treated me. I think that at first Dana and Sam were a little overwhelmed. They had just stepped into my element and they certainly weren't at home. We carefully avoided all press and when asked about the two women beside me I simply said that they were my doctors making sure that the hospital wasn't given a lawsuit. They seemed to accept that answer and moved on.

I wasn't able to stay out that long because I did have broken bones and I was recovering from the accident that took my parents life. Right after the funeral I left. Sam and Dana were very insistent. It was good to just get out of my hospital and change clothes into something that had a back. I returned to the hospital and Dana and Sam stayed with me and we ate dinner and they asked me about the celebrities that made an appearance at the funeral. I didn't really know a lot of them so couldn't really dish out the information they wanted. We stayed away from any serious conversation I don't think any of us were ready for that.

And that concludes my first week after the accident. I remember that somebody told me that the first few days were going to be the hardest. I don't know if that is exactly true, because what followed that first week was hell. It's as simple as that. It was hell.

The following months consisted of me healing physically. All the press about my parent's death had died down so that wasn't really a problem anymore. Without all that to think about I was able to really grasp the fact that I hated not being able to walk. I didn't like not being able to use both my hands and I had had it up with discussing my feelings. I didn't want to go through anything anymore. I wanted to be able to walk to the goddamn bathroom. I wanted to be able to walk. I became frustrated, and I'm sure because of that I wasn't a very pleasant person to be around.

Dana and Sam still visited on a daily basis, but I think that I was involuntarily pushing them away. It's not that I didn't want their company, I just felt like the walls were quickly closing me in and I couldn't do anything about it. I guess I pushed them away to attempt to create more space for myself. Needless to say that didn't work. When I pushed them away I just felt like the walls closed in at a faster pace. I was suddenly placed in this downward spiral and I didn't know how to get out.

My psychiatrist couldn't help. Dana and Sam couldn't help. It was something that I had to do by myself. I had to either accept the situation, which I was in or I risked destroying myself from the inside out. I wouldn't call myself suicidal it was more of a depression. I was coming off this emotional high just to be faced with anther. From my eyes the end of the spiral wasn't coming fast enough. I became one very upset rich little brat. Most of the employees at the hospital just dealt with me and tried to avoid me. They always offered up the excuse that I was just angry and my parents had just died so I should be cut some slack.

As for Dana and Sam they wouldn't stand for my attitude. They knew that I could me a more pleasant person and wouldn't accept anything less. I couldn't treat them badly because they wouldn't take it. They would either leave or quickly put me in my place, especially Dana. At that time she was still significantly bigger than I was and she brought me genuine fear. Don't go thinking though that Sam didn't have a way of handling me either. She was very direct and I wasn't necessarily scared like I was with Dana, it was more of an inability to treat her badly. To this day I can't really explain. I still get the same feeling now that I did when I was twelve when I am disrespectful to Sam.

Their visits because of my attitude did cut down significantly and I started missing them. I knew that in order to get them back I had to change my attitude. I mean there were a few things that I could be thankful for. I could eventual walk again, I had my health, and I had a shit load of money waiting for me. Most people didn't have that. While I was thinking about what to be thankful that was something that really stuck out for me. I never had to worry about money. I was getting the best treatment that this city could offer and I never had to worry about getting anything less. My medical bills would be significant but they wouldn't come even close to making a dent in my pocket book. That wasn't the case for everybody and I made a decision to rectify that situation.

I decided to get up and start moving around the hospital. Just to see all the people that were there that didn't have their own room and personal care. What I saw opened my eyes forever. I saw children younger than me with life threatening diseases. I saw parents who couldn't afford at surgery that would safe their child's life. I saw many things that I never bothered to look at before. I saw life happening around me. I do have a story just like everyone else in this hospital did. I wasn't the only one suffering and I by no means was the only one with pain.

The day I went out on my voyage through the hospital I made a decision to help in anyway I could. I started off by telling stories to the younger children that didn't get their own room. I could only do that for so long because I was still healing and I didn't have that much stamina but for a month a never missed a day. In that month I saw kids who were able to leave and I saw kids that weren't so lucky. Now, I know that you must be thinking I was just setting myself up for more emotional turmoil and maybe I was but that good far outweighed the bad.

As I gained strength I gained duties. I still told stories and played with the younger children but after that task I moved on to those people in the hospital that didn't have any other family, those people who were alone. It was easy to relate to those people no matter what age they were. I think that I had it easier though because while these people had no one I had Dana and Sam. I was able to quickly grow out of my rich brat attitude and take on a more human one. I still had days when I was in bad moods, but seriously who doesn't.

Finally the day came when I could get the cast on my legs off. I couldn't wait. I know I went to sleep the night before with a smile on my face and I'm almost positive that when I woke up it was still there. Dana and Sam both came to my big event. They knew how important that was for me, but they didn't let my spirits sore too high because although the cast was off I still couldn't walk I had to build back up the muscle in my legs, and they told me as much. I was really happy that when I the cast came off that I would be able to take a bath. No more sponging for me.

The casts coming off was a very important step to my recovery and no matter how long I still had to go I knew that I was at least almost half there. Wherever there is. That night Dana and Sam brought me pizza for dinner to celebrate after I had taken my long awaited bath.

I picked up my third piece of pizza and took a healthy bite. I don't think Dana and Sam knew I could eat so much. I didn't think that I could eat that much. I was hungry. "Thank you." I was able to get out through my pizza filled mouth.

"What for the pizza?" Sam asked.

I don't know why but I guess since I was so happy that I felt like saying my thanks. "Well yeah thanks for the pizza, but thanks for being there with me today and all the other days." I looked each one of them in the eye. I don't think they were expecting that.

"Don't think twice about it kid." Dana said while giving me one of her now famous hair ruffles. "Yeah don't think twice about it kid." For some reason I usually only let Dana get away with calling me kid and never took it from anyone else Sam knew this. I just gave her my best glare and ignored her.

I wasn't going to let the conversation drop so easily either. "No I really want to thank you. I mean it's just that not everyone would do what you guys have been doing for me without expecting anything really in return." I locked gazes with each of them again. "So I really mean it. Thank you."

That got them. I didn't mean to get them to cry but it wasn't so bad seeing. I mean ever since I've know these two I've been the one bawling my brains out it was their turn. Both of them cried even stoic Dana. It didn't last long but it was a moment that I would take a picture of in my mind's eye and remember forever. That of course was a real conversation ender too. They each gave me a hug, tucked me in and left.

More moments like that came after I had opened the door. I knew that Dana and Sam wouldn't be there for me forever but I was going to live it up while I could. They each took turns going to therapy with me and made me do all those exercises that the physical therapist wanted me to do during the day at least three times. Sometimes they would even sit in on my sessions with my Ms. Jackson my psychiatrist. It was almost like a family session or something. I continued to get better and stronger. I never stopped my volunteering at the hospital if I did I was afraid that I might go back to being a rich little brat.

I was getting better though and before anyone of us knew it I was able to walk on my own. I remember it was on my thirteenth birthday and Sam had planned a small party for me in the employees' lounge. Most of the staff showed up and some of the patients that I had helped came too. I was wheeled into the room and was very surprised at the turn out. The room was filled to capacity but I saw the two most important people there, Sam and Dana. They all sang Happy Birthday to me and even had a few presents for me as well. I had a little surprise of my own though.

"Let's say that we all eat this really good cake now before I go crazy looking out it." Sandra the head nurse said. "So come on over here birthday girl and cut the first piece." A wink accompanied her harsh words. Dana came over to help me to get over to the cake but I stopped her with a hand single and slowly stood up from my wheelchair.

I slowly started to walk my way over to the table where the cake was without any assistance. The room went silent. No one but Sandra was really expecting it because she was the one I had to plan the scene with. I got over to the table eventually and waiting there for me was Sandra with a cake cutter held out to me. I took it and cut my piece. "Everybody else has to cut their own." I announced as soon as I had my own piece. Then, I handed the cake cutter back to Sandra and walked back to my wheelchair and took a seat.

The whole room was silent. I'm not sure they really knew what to do. My comment got a few laughs but beside that everyone else just seemed to be stuck in the moment. I'm pretty sure that I could see Sam and Dana in the corner; their eyes filled with unshed tears. I smiled at them held my piece of cake in the air and proudly took a bite.