Adam's POV
I didn’t hear it clearly at first. It was more like a screech, then a loud crash, followed by… silence.
“Emily?” I said into the phone again, my heart picking up speed like a racing engine. “Emily?”
Nothing. No voice. No sound. Just dead silence.
“Emily!” I yelled this time, standing up so fast my chair scraped across the floor. My pulse was pounding in my ears. I didn’t know what the hell had just happened, but I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
I grabbed my keys and dashed out of the house, barely remembering to shut the door behind me.
My car roared to life, and I drove like a madman, heading straight for her house. I had only wanted to talk to her, like we always did before bed.
She had sounded off, quiet, broken even, but I didn’t expect it to end with a crash on the other end of the line.
My hands gripped the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.
Please be okay, Emily. Please.
When I got to her house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I pushed the door open and rushed inside. Her parents were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends like they were on two different planets.
Her mom looked stunned, her dad more like a ghost than a man.
“Where’s Emily?” I demanded.
They both turned to look at me as if I’d grown a second head.
“Who are you?” her father asked, standing up.
“I’m her boyfriend,” I said quickly. “I think she’s in danger.”
That got their attention.
“What? What happened?” her mom shot to her feet, her eyes wide.
“I was on the phone with her. She didn’t sound good. Then… I heard a truck’s horn. Then a crash. And now she’s not answering.”
Her mother screamed.
Her father looked stunned. “She left the house in tears after a fight. She was really upset.”
“We have to find her,” I said. “Now.”
Without wasting another second, they followed me outside and jumped into my car. I didn’t even stop to think if this was insane. We just drove. Everywhere. Down the main roads. Around the corners near her house. Anywhere she could’ve gone.
Eventually we saw it. The flashing red and blue lights. The smashed car. The broken glass.
I slammed the brakes and jumped out of the car before it even came to a complete stop.
“Emily!” I shouted, running toward the wreck. But the paramedics were already packing up.
“She’s been taken to the hospital,” one of them told us. “Severe injuries. She’s in the emergency ward now.”
My world went numb.
I could barely feel my legs as I stumbled back to the car. Her mom was already sobbing. Her dad stood still, expressionless, like the wind had been knocked out of him.
“She’s… she’s at the hospital?” her mom whispered.
“She’s alive, right?” I asked, desperate.
“She was unconscious,” the paramedic replied. “That’s all we know.”
We drove in silence, the hospital only fifteen minutes away but feeling like hours. I couldn’t stop the images racing through my mind—Emily’s smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me last night like I was the only person in the world who mattered.
Now she was fighting for her life.
When we arrived, we rushed into the emergency ward. But we were stopped at the door.
“You’ll have to wait here,” a nurse said. “The doctors are doing everything they can.”
So we waited.
Minutes ticked by like centuries.
Her parents sat down, and then the blame game began.
“This is all your fault,” her father snapped. “If you hadn’t said those horrible things to her—”
“Oh don’t you dare put this on me!” her mother shot back. “You were never around! Don’t act like you’re father of the year!”
“Don’t deflect! You said you never wanted her. How could you say something like that to your own daughter?”
“I didn’t mean it! I was angry!”
Their voices got louder, more aggressive, more painful to hear. I sat there in stunned silence, watching these two adults throw around guilt like a ball in a tennis match.
Was this what Emily had to come home to? No wonder she was broken. No wonder she drove off like that.
She didn’t deserve any of it.
And I hadn’t done enough. I should’ve gone to her the moment I knew she was hurting.
A tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t even wipe it away. My chest felt like it was caving in.
The door opened and a doctor stepped out.
“Doctor!” her father called out, rushing to him. “How is she? Is she okay?”
We all stood up at once.
The doctor looked tired. “Emily is alive, but she’s in a coma. We’re doing everything we can. The next 24 to 48 hours are critical.”
I couldn’t breathe.
A coma.
The words hit me like a hammer.
Her mother gasped. Her father closed his eyes and stumbled back into his seat. I just stood there, frozen.
Emily. Please wake up.
I need you.
I love you.
I don’t know how to live without you.