memories.

Alan slowly comes to and immediately clutches his head in his hands at the wave of pain flowing through it.

Dakota. He reminds himself through a hazy brain. My girlfriend, Dakota. The girl I love.

He moves his head side to side to look for her, even if his brain is screaming at him to lay down and go to sleep.

There. On the pavement. The thought repeats itself again before it sinks in.

Dakota is sprawled out on the road, her left leg bent in a way that it most certainly should not be bent. Already forming bruises scatter across her body, but the worst is her face. Covered in blood and gore, it pains him to even look at her.

After much fumbling and very many expletives, he makes his way out of the crumpled car and staggers to her side.

“Baby, wake up,” he whispers, gently shaking her. She doesn’t respond. “Babe, wake up, please.” He requests it again, more urgently this time. She still lies there, completely unresponsive.

“Dakota Lawson, this isn’t funny. Stop messing around!” He demands, shoving her again. There’s no way she actually can’t hear him. She can’t be that hurt.

Call an ambulance! The half way sane part of his mind commands and he does so, fingers fumbling at the cracked screen. At least it wasn’t broken.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My-my girlfriend and I were in a car crash and she isn’t responding and she’s all torn up and she won’t answer me and it -” Alan stutters out, trying to hold back the tears.

“Sir, please. I need you to tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know, dammit! I don’t know where we are! All I know is that she won’t answer me!” He shouts, letting all of his terrified anger come out.

“Sir! I need you to tell me where you are so I can send you an ambulance.” He takes a deep breath, scouring the street for any sign of a landmark of any kind. A small green sign lays fifty feet away. Their car must have crashed into it.

“Sycamore Ave. down by the beach. That’s where we are. Please, please hurry.”

“The ambulance is on their way.”

“You are very lucky with your injuries,” the doctor says, holding his clipboard to his chest. “You’re a bit banged up, but not nearly as much as I would expect from a crash like that.” Alan impatiently taps his foot against the white marble of the hospital floor, wanting the doctor to hurry up so he can go find Dakota.

The doctor turns to the nurse who was currently copying down all of his vital to some charts. “Getting out of that crash with only a fractured rib and a mild concussion? Miraculous!” The nurse doesn’t respond, just nods and pretends to care.

“Never have I in my career seen someone that-” “That’s all good and well, Doc, but do you know where my girlfriend is?”

“What’s her name?” The nurse, Regina, her name tag reads, asks, looking down at the chart in front of her.

“Dakota Lawson.”

She bites her lips, scanning the chart in front of her. She’s in room 207. I don’t know if they’ll-”

Alan jumps off the bed, only slightly wincing at the pang in his ribs. “Thank you!” He rushes off down towards the second floor, muttering a few prayers under his breath.

He practically goes limp with relief when he finds the second floor. Room 201, room 203, room 205, and room 20- it’s empty. The thought echoes around his head. Her room is empty.

Not wanting to believe it, he practically sprints to the nurses station, earning several looks from elders in the waiting room.

“Where is Dakota Lawson?” The nurse opens her mouth, most likely to ask their relation so he just goes ahead and answers. “I’m her boyfriend. Please tell me.” The nurse presses her lips together and strokes a few keys on her keyboard.

“She’s in surgery right now.” His eyes grow wide as he echoes her. “Surgery?”

She nods sympathetically. “Yes, for a punctured lung. Well, they think it’’s punctured. There’s always a chance of her being fine.” Alan takes a step back in shock. He gets off with a minor concussion and a fractured rib and she’s in surgery. How fair is that?

“When can I see her?”

“It’ll probably won’t be for at least another three hours. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll try to keep you updated, sweetie.”

He thanks her and walks outside to the designated smoking area.

His fingers tap on the screen of his phone as he dials a phone number.”Cole? You need to get to the hospital.”

Notes

So. Do you guys hate me?