To the woman who hit me

I don't know your name.

If the cops had told me, I don't remember it.

I only remember a few things from that night. 3 drops of blood on my right shoe. The people who screamed and came running from the parking lot. The look on the EMT's face when I told her she couldn't take me to the hospital; that I couldn't afford it.

I was in bed for a week. I couldn't move without throwing up. I spent every second of that week either thinking through what I could have done differently, or asleep having twisted nightmares about the accident. Nobody asked where I was. I missed a big test for one of my AP classes. My grades were abysmal. When I went back to school I could barely see. My face was swollen and I had two black eyes. I was missing teeth. I could barely walk.

I'm writing this because I want you to know what you took from me.

I was 17, a junior in high school, 3.6 GPA, 32 ACT, Captain of 6 different teams (though do keep in mind I was on 7,) supply officer of my NJROTC unit. I was planning to bring up my gpa, to be an even better candidate for the Ivy League.

I'm 18 now, a senior. I got diagnosed with ADHD and PTSD. I am retaking English again. I keep getting rejected from state schools. I dropped all but 1 team. They had to give me an official 504 plan so I can hopefully graduate.

Ivy Day is in two days. I applied anyways but I have a 2.9 GPA.

I don't know if I even want to hear back.

I have to eat and drink at specific times now so I don't get dizzy. Something bad happened up there and I don't think I'll ever be the same. It's scary for me. I want to be able to sleep without medications again, and go a month without seeing a therapist, and pass a class without having to pull the "I'm disabled and traumatized" card. I want to get by again.

I had to rebuild the bike yknow. It had taken me a whole summer to build the first time. It took my prom savings the second time. I had been saving for 7 months. I was going to fly in my best friend.

I didn't, incase you were wondering.

If I went I don't remember.

I don't remember a lot now.

What were you doing? I had all my lights on. It was a well-lit intersection. I used my hand signals and I looked both ways. How fast were you going? Were you texting? Vaping? Drunk? I was going 35.

Why didn't you ask if I was okay?

Why didn't you apologize?

You hit me with your car. I think that's worthy of an apology. Unless that is old-fashioned of me. I should have sued. You would have deserved it.

What did you tell them to let you go without a ticket? I'm crying as I type this. I want you to know that I can't even go down that road now without having a panic attack. Occasionally they happen at very little things, like seeing a stain on my shoes. Or seeing a cyclist.

You took so much from me and I hate you.

I hate you so much.

And I hope you never ever put someone through what you put me through again. I hope you never go through it either. Some days I still struggle to walk.

I want to know what you were doing. I want an apology. I want to never hear from you because I don't know what I would do.

-The kid you hit