Summary: Okay. I just read a fanfic that inspired me to write something deep and meaningful. I am aiming to make the reader feel something, and I would love to know what anyone did feel. But don’t write to me telling me off for killing your favourite character, okay?

It was silly really. I was at a party with some friends, and one of them mentioned their high school sweetheart. Before I knew it, I was screaming as I ran out of the room. I carried on running. All seventeen blocks back to my apartment. I ruined my pair of Gucci shoes, but there was nothing I could do. It all came flashing back to me, and it's something that I don't want to have to live though every day of my life. After attempting to clean off my makeup, most of which was on my cheeks, I poured myself a few whiskeys, and sat at my computer, ready to type. I'm going to tell the whole story just once, and hopefully I can start to move on. God knows it's been long enough - eleven years.

First, let me explain. My name is Josephine, but I prefer Jo. I'm 29, and I live in New York, the city that never sleeps. I moved here at a time when I didn't either, ten years ago. I had my whole life mapped out, and I never imagined it would be like this - this living hell, like a nightmare from which I can never escape. And through all this pain is the knowledge that it was all my fault, and that I'm all alone in this cruel world because of my mistake…

It all started on the night of my senior prom. I was going with Dawson, my best friend turned boyfriend. We'd been off/on for years, but a month earlier, we realised that there was no point avoiding the obvious. We got back together, and even started planning our lives together. We should never have tempted fate. I had been accepted to Columbia, Fordham and UCLA. Dawson had been accepted at Middlebury, UCLA and the University of Massachusetts So naturally, we had both accepted at UCLA so we could be together. Pacey, our other best friend, had also accepted a place there, and we were excited about our future.

During my sophomore year at high school, my father got released from prison after serving a sentence for drug dealing. It was awkward at first, adjusting. After all, for three years, it had just been my sister, Bessie, and me. We weren't used to having someone to report to. We'd just stuck together and muddled through everything. Anyway, Dad was on this whole guilt trip thing, and he brought me a car for my 18^th birthday. It was a red Jeep, and I loved it. To me, it signified the new Joey who was going to conquer the world with Dawson Leery at her side. So naturally, the night of the prom, Dawson and I took the Jeep.

Dawson looked so handsome that night. He wore a simple tuxedo, but he looked wonderful. He'd kept his hair short, and let the blond grow out of it, so it was dark, and it made his eyes stand out. All evening, he wore this grin on his face. We were so happy. We danced for hours, and it was easily the best night out we'd had together. The whole graduating class had voted for all these different titles, and when it came to the presentation part, it was no surprise that Dawson won ‘Future Millionaire'. He'd been making movies since we were old enough to work a camera, and the two of us had won quite a lot of money by entering competitions. For the record, Pacey was awarded ‘Class Clown', a privilege he was happy to have bestowed upon him. It was about an hour after this that Dawson said he felt tired. He looked flushed, and I was worried about him. He said he felt giddy, so I put him in the Jeep, and we began to drive home. I drove us home. About half of the way there, I began to feel ill too. My vision became a bit blurred, but I knew that I had to get Dawson home. I figured I could sleep at his house, his parents wouldn't mind. I'd done it a thousand times before. Besides, they knew we were lovers in the true sense of the word.

I can still remember the sound as the car collided with ours. The bright light that I saw before darkness enveloped me. But unconsciousness did not come soon enough. I heard Dawson's agonised yell, and my screams of pain. I felt my head hit the windscreen and then my seatbelt dig into me as it pulled me back into the chair. But then the black covered me. I couldn't see, but for a few seconds, I could hear shouts, and tears. I sometimes wish I'd never woken up.

When I did wake up, I was in hospital, and I could hear sobbing. I looked to my left, and saw Bessie sat crying. I slowly became aware of her holding my hand. Then I saw the brilliant white of the walls.

"Bess," I strained to speak - I had a tube in my throat. She heard me, and her head snapped up.

"Joey!" she cried, kissing my cheek. "Oh my God! You're alive!" She was almost hysterical.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"You're in hospital, Jo. There was an accident. You've been in a coma for over twenty four hours," Bessie explained, tears of joy rolling off her face. She hugged me once more, as if looking for tangible evidence that I was alive.

"Dawson," I tried to yell, remembering his cries when we were in the car. Bessie's face changed. "Dawson," I insisted.

"Joey, he's still in a coma. He had to be cut out of the Jeep. He's real sick," Bessie told me. I began to cry as hysterically as she had a few moments earlier.

"Let me see him!" I cried.

"I need to get a doctor to see you first," she told me. I knew then that his injuries were serious.

About four hours later, I was allowed to go and see him. The doctors had examined me, and apart for cuts, bruises, and a broken leg, I was going to be OK. As my leg was in plaster, and I was weak, they wheeled me towards the intensive care room in a wheelchair. Before we got to the room that held my love, we passed through the room where the Leerys and Pacey were waiting, eager for news on Dawson.

"Oh, Joey!" Gail cried, as she ran towards me and hugged me. I winced in pain.

"Hi, Gail," I managed. They had removed the tube, but my throat was sore. Gail began to cry as she realised the pain that I felt. She moved away, and hugged Mitch for comfort. I was taken into the room. I still see that image today. Dawson looking pale, as his body was covered in tubes and monitors surrounding him. There was so any of them, all controlling or monitoring a different part of the man I loved. I sat and cried, holding his hand and preying to a God that until then I had never believed in. Now I have even more reason to suspect he doesn't exist.

I was discharged from hospital the next day. The nurse managed to let me out as they knew I'd spend every day by Dawson's side, or at least in the building. The guilt I felt was overwhelming. I got little comfort from anyone - I didn't let anyone near me. Bessie was glad that I was alive, but I felt that part of me was still in a coma with Dawson. Gail and Mitch were going through their own grief. As every moment passed, Dawson's chances became smaller and smaller. A few hours after my discharge, Dawson's parents and I were taken aside by a doctor. He explained to us that they had discovered Dawson's spleen had ruptured. There was an operation that could fix it, but they needed consent. The Leerys immediately agreed, but the doctor told us that it was up to me. When asked why, he informed us that Dawson had changed his medical files just a couple of weeks ago. He now had me listed as next of kin. As he was 18, his parent's didn't have automatic right, and as I was eighteen, it was legal. I was shocked. We had discussed it in passing, along with plans for marriage and children. But he had gone out and changed his files. The action touched me, and made me break down into tears. Needless to say, I agreed with the Leerys. The doctor warned us that Dawson had only a 45% chance of surviving the operation, and if it went ahead, there was a 60% success rate. However, without the operation, he would almost certainly die. What could we do but agree?

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