power of the pen

I woke up in a hospital bed trying not to remember yesterday. I barely could except for alcohol, driving, the car hitting something, and Dewey. Dewey. Where is he, I hope he is ok, How could I do this to him! I went to go get out of my bed to go check on him. I heard a “No sweetheart you can’t do that.” How could I mistake that voice it was mom. I wondered why she would say that, would I get lightheaded? Am I not allowed to get out of bed? Then it hit me. I was paralyzed.
“Mom am I,” I said it so quiet I could barely hear myself, “Am I paralyzed?” I don’t know how I managed to get that out.
“Yes from the waist down.” From the way she spoke I knew she was crying.
“I’m so sorry mom.” I was now crying too. I was only 17 after all and we were drinking and driving. I have never felt so stupid in my life.
“Don’t say sorry to me I wasn’t the one that lost a child last night, but others weren’t as fortunate.” Dewey. He was my first friend when I moved here, the only one who would talk to me.
“He’s dead?” It came out more like a statement not a question, and I knew with all the strength left in my body that the answer was yes. I started to cry even more, I would never get to talk to him again or say I’m sorry for last night. How I never should’ve told him it would be ok and fun. I was stupid.