It all started on the school's fifth major baseball game. My class got to sit in the front row because around 1/4 of us were playing in the game. I sat next to my best friend, as usual, and our teacher sat on the other side of me.
Once the game started, I put on my glasses. I've always hated them--I thought they looked ugly--but my family encouraged me to wear them full-time. I immediately stopped squinting and could see my tiny classmates running around the baseball diamond. I smiled.
About thirty minutes later, however, one of my classmates was up to bat. I never really liked him, but I still cheered on for him. The crowd fell silent when the pitcher threw the ball, and there was an extremely loud PING! once the bat and ball hit each other.
It flew across the field, soaring above the fence and into the audience. People around me were trying to catch it, but I just sat there, wide-eyed, watching its path. As the ball got bigger and bigger, I realized that it was heading straight towards my face.
There was nothing I could do about it, and once my glasses shattered, I knew it was pretty much over for me. The shards entered my eyes, and when I tried to blink, it felt like a new shard entered my eye. My best friend screamed and ran away, tripping over legs while she was at it.
I sat there, unable to see, my vision a mixture of blood and a milky-white blur.
"Can you hear me?" my teacher said. "I've called and ambulance." That question was downright stupid. Of course I could hear her. The glass didn't get into my ears. I sat there silently, unable to move.
She picked me up, the cheap frames of my glasses falling to the ground. People were staring, I could tell (I always could tell), and they were feeling pity. Sooner or later I fell asleep.
"The damage is too bad for surgery, there'll be too much scar tissue." I heard a whisper, along with loud sobbing.
"Show us her eyes. She always had the most beautiful blue eyes." a voice thought to be my father's whispered back.
I felt a gloved hand pull my eyelids up, and I tried to resist. My mother started to wail.
"She's awake." the doctor muttered solemnly and nodded to a nurse who felt my arm. It was cold and clammy. "It's going to be okay. Can you get up?" I lifted up a leg and nodded slowly, but it was still there. The blurry blood was still there, and I felt like crying. At least the glass was gone.
"Sweetie," the nurse said, "we're going to take you to a vision test. Are you hurting at all? On a scale of one to ten?"
"Yeah," I muttered angrily. They already knew that I couldn't see a bit. "Seven," I said, allowing the nurse to help me up.
She put some bandages around my eyes and I never heard her again.
I turned my head and silently gazed at the girl who sat next to me at the rehabilitation center. She couldn't see it, but I knew that she knew that I was looking at her. She stared blankly at the chalkboard--how she knew where to look, I don't know--and held a pencil loosely.
The instructor announced that a drawing was due next Tuesday and that we were to draw one sorrow in our lives. I didn't really know what to do, but I bet Blind-Girl had many.
She whispered to me something funny. Looking back on it now, I can't remember what it was, but it made me laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. It stopped when she asked me what I was doing there.
"In short," I told her, "someone pushed me in front of the train tracks." I hoped she would understand. She nodded.
"That's awful. Who would try to do that to you?"
"I did," I said, standing up and walking away from her.