I recall staring at a wall. I had no idea what had just happened. I was surrounded by people who were anxiously calling my name. Adults were saying, “Give her space!” I couldn't move my body to look around me. The wall was all I could see. I felt like I wasn't there mentally, and there was a low buzzing sound in my ears.

I was raised in a small town in Pennsylvania, surrounded by friends and family I loved. In school, I was an above-average student. I liked to dabble in lots of activities: soccer, lacrosse, track, field hockey, Irish dance, golf, and basketball. But after the wall, I lost all of that.

On the night in question, I was about to perform the last show of “Beauty and the Beast.” I had the role of Lefou, Gaston's ditzy sidekick. After the final curtain call, I rushed down to see my best friends and family. Then I headed to the cast party, which was across the street at the school cafeteria. As I walked outside, it began to pour. This is the last memory I have.

The next thing I remember is staring at the wall, surrounded by people who seemed concerned. Then I was rushed to the hospital.

I woke up the next morning in my parents' room with the worst headache imaginable. It felt like I had bashed my head into a hard surface multiple times. I didn't know it yet, but that is exactly what had happened. My mom came in and started talking to me about a girl named Audrey and how her soccer team won their big game. I just looked away. That's when my mom realized I had no clue what she was saying. I had forgotten that Audrey was one of my best friends! At that point my mom explained the mystery behind my terrible headache.

The night of the cast party, I was running around the cafeteria with my friends. I didn't think anything of playing hard. I was always a tough kid. As I ran, I turned around to see if I was still being chased, and didn't notice a chair in my path. I tripped and hit my head against the concrete wall. After that impact, I lost consciousness, but the second blow woke me up as my head bashed against the tile floor on the same spot.

I got a severe concussion, and the injury lasted a long time. I would get excruciating headaches every day. My memory was wiped out; I could only recall basic knowledge and some names. I was pulled out of school and had to stay in my room all day. All my electronics were taken away. I couldn't read or be in the sunlight. I was taken off my sports teams. I couldn't see friends. It was like I dropped off the face of the earth. I didn't know who I was anymore.

Because they lived with us, my grandparents kept me company during the day when my parents were working. Coincidentally, my grandfather became sick soon after my accident. We would sit together and talk for hours. He was the only person who understood me. Sure, people tried to talk to me, but all they would talk about was my brain injury. Grandpa was the only one who treated me like a normal person. I needed that. As the days passed, he became my best friend. Then, he got too sick to leave his bed. Every day, he talked less, and eventually I was the only one speaking. I knew he wanted to say something, but he didn't have the strength. I could feel my best friend slipping away. I did the only thing that I could think of. I became his doctor.

Every day I would write down his vitals. I would feed him, help clean him, and keep him company. Nothing else mattered to me. I saw my grandpa decline more and more each day. One night when my aunts and uncles were visiting and Grandpa was alone in his room, I went in and sat next to him as I usually did. This time, I could see his eyes becoming glossy.

I knew he couldn't respond, but I needed to tell him something; I whispered that it was okay for him to go. I thanked him for all the happy memories and told him that I loved him. I let him know that I would try my best to become a doctor to help people like him. I know he heard me.

Saying good-bye to Grandpa was the hardest thing I've ever done. That night, my best friend passed away. I was with him, rubbing his head. When I think of that moment, I can still feel his soft skin under my fingers. It's like I'm eternally with him in that moment.

After he died, it felt like my life really had collapsed. But then a miracle happened. I switched doctors, and my new doctor opened my eyes to a whole new world. Thanks to her, I started going to school for half days again. I saw my friends again. My life was returning, slowly but surely.

Today I am back in school full time. I just graduated eighth grade and am going on to high school with a scholarship. My soccer team won the championship. I have recovered and made it farther than anyone thought I would.