Disclaimer: I own nothing other than a few original characters!

So basically, I was a slightly disappointed with Camp Rock. This is a kind-of short fanfic of what I wanted to see! I'm starting the entire story from scratch, but the characters are mostly the same. Beware: It starts off a little tragic, but then the story unfolds. (:

"Mom, Mom," I screeched with all my strength. She didn't reply.

We were stuck under our wrecked car. The last thing I could remember was a bright light shining in from the driver's side window. We had just come back from a Connect Three concert.

I clenched my teeth to embrace the pain that would come shortly after I attempted to reach over to shake my mom. My hand was dyed red from the dripping pools of blood everywhere.

"MOM!" I mustered up the energy to yell. Well, I tried.

She lay there; almost lifeless. I felt so helpless, not being able to wake her up.

I finally gave up and cursed myself for it. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. My eyelids felt more droopy by the second and before I knew it, I was drifting off into unconsciousness.


"Mitchie?" I heard a familiar voice call.

I opened an eye, squinting from the bright lights.

"She's awake. Hurry; bring her to the intensive care unit!" A masked man ordered a room of medical staff.

"Dad?" I asked, as soon as I realized the person who had called my name.

"It's okay, sweetie. You're all right. Hang in there for me, Mitch," he replied, looking relieved.

Apparently, I fell asleep again because the second time I awoke, there were blue and white curtains, draped around to form sections for rooms. I glanced down at my left arm; it was in a cast. Then, my eyes moved to my father, who was staring intently at me.

"Mitchie, honey!" he let out, standing up to hug my head. "I was so worried!"

My throat felt dry and scratchy, but I spoke anyway. "What happened?"

I had totally forgotten what happened. I knew nothing. My mind just wouldn't let me remember.

My dad reached over a tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Sweetie, you were in a car accident, but everything's fine now. Just get some rest," he told me.

I felt sore all over. The legs in my muscles felt strained and back ached when tossed around in the hospital bed. My thoughts were all over the place before I decided to go ahead and listen to my dad. I closed my eyes and went into a deep slumber.


I heard my dad whisper something along the lines of "I have to go check on the store. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can" before I woke up. I was moved to a regular hospital room that actually had walls. There was a window by the bed, but the room was so high up that you weren't able to see anything significant except for darkness and light. I could tell that it was either really late at night or very early in the morning. Either way, I wasn't able to sleep any longer.

I thought hard about what happened, but nothing came to me.

Then it struck me: Shouldn't my mom be by my dad's side when he was visiting me?

I tried as hard as possible to reel in those distant memories.

I darted my eyes around the room looking at all the paintings and pictures that hung on the walls. There was one particular picture that had a stop sign. It was a blinding red, fierce in its entirety.

The memories flooded back to me. The blood, the helpless feeling I had, the heavy machinery on my body—my mom.

As soon as my dad returned, I demanded answers.

"Where's mom? Is she okay? Why didn't you tell me about her? How's she doing?"

"Your mom is," he started saying but never exactly finished.

"What? Tell me what's wrong!" I pressed.

He hesitated. "She's in a coma. She'll be fine, but you just have to give her time, okay?"


I insisted on having my dad take care of his store. I told him that I was feeling better, which was half true. The aching pain in my legs was almost gone and when I rolled over in bed, it didn't sting. I waited for the night before I snuck out of my room to go visit my mom.

I tiptoed down the empty hallways until I got to the front desk of the floor level. I was still sore, but I could deal with a little pain if it meant I could see my mom. I managed to snatch the stack of papers on the desk to check what room number she was in before the front desk person came back.

I continued my almost nomadic expedition down the endless rows of rooms. I stopped when I got to a flickering light and realized the number was 670, the room my mother was in. I soundlessly slipped into the large room and found her there.

She seemed so peaceful, but she still had that lifeless look to her. The machines were breathing for her and she was fed through a tube. I felt terrible. A tear forced its way out of the slit of my left eye. Then, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand to see her like this—fast asleep, living in a whole other world.

I reluctantly left her and headed back to mine so I wouldn't get caught. Step by step. My heart was crushed.

Keep or delete? Camp Rock is really going to start in the next two chapters where everything and everyone is going to be settled and in its correct place. This is just an opening chapter and the chapters are going to be longer.