It was a dark winter night, several days after Christmas. Everyone in the Midwest knows about the harsh winters that they faced; Snow, ice, winds, everything you can imaging about a blizzard. Driving in these conditions were hard and car accidents happened frequently. Dakota had been on the roads during one of these harsh storms. She has been on the way to her friends house when she collided with an on-coming driver. That's when it hit her.


Black. Everything is all black. I don’t really know what’s going on, I’m confused. I think I’m asleep, but I can hear everything around me. Am I dreaming? I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel like a dream, it just feels like I’m resting my eyes. I can’t seem to wake up, though.


I hear things around me, things that are calming, yet scary. Sometimes it’s so quiet that I feel dead. Not literally, but there is nothing around me to ensure my life. I’ve heard people talking, though. It’s frequent, and they always seem to be talking about the same thing: me. They were always talking about me. All they ever talked about was how I was sleeping and when I’d wake up. That makes me uneasy, confused, and scared.

“Is she going to live? Is she going to be alright? I just need to know. I can’t bear this anymore,” cried my father. You could hear the sorrow and pain in his voice.
“We don’t really know what’s going to happen to her, sir. She seems to be in bad conditions. I don’t know how long she’s going to be out for, or how bad the damage is going to be once she pulls herself from the coma,” said the doctor, informing my father of what was happening to me.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know, you’re a doctor! This
is your job, you’re supposed to know!”

All I hear for the next several minutes is that same conversation. I know for sure that it’s a doctor and my father talking. I don’t know what they’re talking about though. I’m just sleeping. I’ll wake up in a few hours just like I do every night.
After the talking stops, all I can think about is why they would be so worried about me. The last thing I can remember from being awake is being on winter break from school. I remember it blizzarding outside and the driving conditions being very dangerous. I was in the car driving to a friends house. Oh wait, now I remember. I was in a car accident. There was black ice and I didn't see it coming. I went out of control and I remember slamming into another car and being swerved off of the road. Then everything went black, and all I heard were ambulance sirens and doctors yelling. Wait, now that I think about it, maybe that’s why they’re all so worried about me. Did I hit my head so hard that I fell into a coma? Did I collide with someone? Is anyone else injured? Oh no! I’m fine, I swear! No, no. This can’t happen. I need to wake up and let them know I’m ok. I don’t want them to worry. I’m fine, I really am. Things could be worse, right? Things could always be worse. I just wish there was a way for me to let them know that

Hours pass, but they seem like minutes. Since I obviously can’t do anything, I just have to spend my time wondering through my thoughts and mind. I wish I was able to take my mind off of things, but I obviously can’t. I want wake up, I don’t want to race through images and memories anymore. It’s getting boring and kind of scary. The only time my mind is out of my thoughts is when people around me start to talk. Once they stop, it also gives me something new to think about. Sometimes it’s hopeful thinking, and other times, it’s dark.

“I don’t know how much longer she’ll be able to go on like this, sir. It’s been 2 months, and no signs of progress have occurred. We’re scared that she won’t ever make progress, and that she’ll be in this state for longer than predicted. And once she wakes up, she won’t be able to do anything. She’ll be in the state of a newborn again,“ muttered the doctor, uneasily.

“What are we supposed to do? We can’t keep her in here forever. You have to do something, anything, to help her, please. Please.”

“Sir, we are trying everything that we can. Nothing seems to work. I wish we could do something to wake her up and end what you and your family are going through. I know it’s hard, but there is nothing we can do. I think the best thing to do to stop your daughter from hurting is to take her off of life support.”

What? No. they can’t do that. They wouldn’t! Would they? They can’t just give up on me like that. I can wake up, and I will show them that I am fine and that they don’t need to do that.

“No, no! We can’t do that. That’s exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear. But… as much as it kills me, I just want the best for my daughter. If that’s what it takes to end her suffering, then I think that would be the right thing to do. It will put an end to all of this for her, and it will let my family and I be able to rest easy knowing that she
is done suffering and that she is in a better place.”

No! They can’t do this to me. They can’t just give up on me like that. They can’t do this to me. Are they dumb? This won’t fix anything. Why would they do this to me? I need to try and wake up, I need to. I don’t want them to take me off life support. I want to live. I want to walk out of here the person I was before I even fell into this coma. I will wake up.

It’s been a couple of hours. I’ve been trying to pull myself out of this for all that time. I can’t do it. Maybe they’re right; maybe this will be good for everyone. I don’t want to be a burden on my family. I don’t want to be the reason that they have to constantly worry and wonder what is going to happen. I don’t want to do that to them. Maybe this will be good. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.
The day came; it was time for my family to say their final goodbyes. I didn’t want to do this, I don’t think anyone did. I can’t believe that I’m going to be dead, gone. I won’t be able to see my family again and they won’t be able to see me.

“You can now come in to say your last words to her,” instructed one of the nurses to my family.

One by one, I heard footsteps and cries from all around me. This was unbearable; I couldn’t take the sound of their sorrow. Even though I couldn’t see, I could sense the tears falling from everyone in the room. This was it.

“I can’t believe this is it, I can’t believe I have to say goodbye. I don’t really know what to say except that I’ll miss you. I’ll hopefully see you soon,” said one of my family members, stuttering from word to word.

They said their goodbyes for a good half hour, until a nurse had told them that it was time for them to leave. I heard the same footsteps and cries that entered the room, leave, crying and mourning even more than before. It was now time for me to basically die. I know it’s for the better, and it will give my family some closure. I know people wouldn’t want me to live my life sleeping and not being able to be a normal human. This will be good, whether I want to believe it or not.

I hear a few doctors and nurses enter the room. They were all quiet and soft-spoken. I can tell that this would be hard for them. They began to unhook equipment, and from what I know, they didn’t want too. I heard the doctors speak of the procedure, and they said it was almost finished. But there it was, light. I could see everything around me.