The soft sounds of a guitar filters through my mind, but it’s coupled with a strange beeping. The intermittent noise is annoying and ruining the melody. I can’t understand why my dad, Liam or Jimmy would allow this to happen. I want it to stop but can’t seem to move my hand. It feels heavy and my skin feels tight.

In fact, everything feels… off. My head hurts and when I try to touch the pain, neither of my arms will move. My chest burns, and yet I can’t rub the spot either. The more I start to access my body, the more I realize I’m in agony. What the hell did I do?

I struggle to move my fingers, toes… my leg. My right side feels like it’s burning, like someone is jabbing me with a thousand fire rods. Something clicks and the pain subsides. It’s there, but not as forceful as before.

But there’s something in my throat, and it’s cutting off my airway. I can’t swallow. Taking a deep breath is near impossible. Panic ensues as I struggle to get air. I gasp and cry out in pain, except it’s a deep throatily moan that makes me sound like a zombie. I need help but am stuck. I can’t move. I can’t talk. I open my eyes and see the faint outline of a person, but nothing else because tears cloud my vision. I try to scream for help, but I’m only able to groan. The guitar has stopped, but the beeping increases. Someone help me!

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, Peyton.”

Quinn appears almost as if he’s hovering over me. He’s smiling and I think there are tears falling down his cheeks, but I can’t be sure. He gently holds my shoulders down and says, “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just hold tight.” As if repeating himself is reassurance. It’s not.

I do the exact opposite and try to find where the noises are coming from. I look to my left and find a machine, the more I study it, the higher the numbers climb. Paper is printing out of it like crazy and now something is squeezing my arm. Frantically, I look back at Quinn. He’s still smiling and I don’t understand why. Can’t he see that I’m in desperate need of assistance?

“Well, would you look at those beautiful blue eyes,” some lady in a Pepto pink shirt with flowers on it says. She presses a few buttons and thank God the beeping stops but that doesn’t help the fact that I can’t breathe. I grunt, getting her attention and she smiles softly at me. She seems familiar, but I don’t know her. “Okay, Peyton. I know you’re scared, but I need you to relax.”

Easier said than done, lady.

She starts checking my vitals, but I’m still unaware of what’s going on or where I am. And why is Quinn here, but no one else? I look to him for answers, but still he’s smiling, almost like he’s done something bad and is waiting for me to figure it out.

“Peyton, can you hear me okay?”

I nod, and she focuses her attention on Quinn. “I’ve given her a sedative to keep her calm. She’s a little too alert after the traumatic experience she’s had. She’ll start to drift in and out of consciousness. Don’t be alarmed. It’s her body’s way of healing, but until she can sit up, we’re going to leave her tube in a bit longer and let her body stabilize on its own.”

“Okay, I’ll tell my parents when they come back.”

I try to follow the conversation, but everything is fuzzy and out of focus. Once the nurse leaves, I grunt at Quinn to get his attention.

“Hey.” He holds my hand, but not in the way you normally would. He’s slid his under mine. It’s odd, yet comforting. “I know you’re scared, but everything is going to be okay. I texted Mom and Dad, and they’re on their way back.”

I grunt again, which translates to me asking him where am I?

“They’re going to be so happy.”

Another grunt. Why can’t I move my arms? Why can’t I feel my leg? Give me something, Quinn.

Quinn starts playing his guitar. He begins to sing to me softly. This was the sound that woke me up from wherever I was. As much as I want to turn my head toward him, I can’t. My eyes start to droop. I fight to keep them open, but after each blink, it’s harder to open them the next time.

Except, I’m not sleeping. I can hear everything around me. The beeping is back, but so are voices. My parents, Elle and Quinn’s voices are distinct. Others, I’m not so sure about. People come in and out of my room, and for the most part, they seem happy. They’re talking quietly, but I can hear a few of the things they’re saying.

As much as I want to, I can’t open my eyes. Even though I attempt to each time someone asks, I fail. And whoever is sitting around me at the time gets unbelievably upset when I can’t accomplish what they’re asking. I want to tell them I’m trying, but that’s near impossible. My body feels like it’s detached from my nervous system and no matter what my brain says, my body is rejecting the notion, except for the twitching.

Every few seconds my right arm jerks, which causes an obscene amount of pain. Each internal scream is nothing more than a grunt. After the sensation dies down, I’m numb again. I’ve gathered that one of these machines I’m hooked up to is keeping me doped up because right now I’m pain free.

By sheer luck, my eyes open. Someone notices. I don’t know who but there’s a mad rush to my bedside with everyone jockeying for position. They say my name repeatedly, asking if I can hear them. They do know I have something stuck in my mouth and can’t answer them, right?

Frantically, I look around trying to focus on one face, but my vision is blurry and the people clamoring around are nothing more than blobs making noise. It’s easier when I’m asleep or pretending to be so I close my eyes and the commotion around me stops. Now it’s peaceful even though I can hear the people in my room talking. My mom is worried there’s something wrong because I won’t wake up. Maybe if they’d leave me alone, I’d open my eyes and greet them, but the instant onslaught isn’t helping my brain cope with whatever is going on.

My room is quiet, with the exception of the machines and the sound of someone talking. The voice is muffled though and I’m having a hard time placing who they might be. I open my eyes again and find Quinn next to me. This time, he’s not focused on me, but a small television, which is sitting on a cart. He’s staring at it intently, completely unaware that I’m watching him.

At some point, someone elevated my bed. I have the urge to cough but am afraid to with this tube down my throat. I can’t kick him because my leg won’t move and each time I try to move my arm, I feel like I’m being stabbed so I grunt, hoping I’m loud enough he’ll be able to hear me over the television.

He looks at me from over his shoulder. I try to smile and his eyes go wide. “Welcome back.” He reaches over the top of me and fiddles with something and within seconds the Petpo pink shirt-wearing lady is back.

“Hello, we look a little more awake this time.”

Nodding is really the only thing I can do, and the action brings a smile to her face. She busies herself with setting various other tubes.

“What are you doing?” Thankfully Quinn asks because I’m wondering the same thing.

“I’m going to suction out her tube before I remove it. She’s going to be very sore and with her chest wound the last thing we want is for her to have to cough excessively.”

Chest wound? I glance at Quinn and wait for him to look at me, but his attention is solely on my nurse. I don’t have to do anything while she completes her task, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared. Quinn leans toward me, careful as to where he touches me.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to open your mouth.” I do as she says and she suctions out my mouth, making me feel like I’m at the dentist. “Now, I’m going to remove the tube. If you feel like you need to cough, go ahead.”

The process seems slow. I can feel the tube moving inside of me. The tickling sensation causes me to cough, but the pain is almost too much to handle. My eyes go wide as I gasp for air. Quinn is in my ear, telling me that everything is going to be okay, but I’m not so sure I believe him right now.

“One second and you’ll feel fine,” the nurse says, and she is right. Just like that, I’m numb again. She places an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, tightening the straps on the side. “You’ll need to wear this for a while, but feel free to talk if you’re up to it. Okay?”

I close my eyes and nod.

“How long will she be on the morphine?” Quinn asks.

“It’s hard to say. The doctor will be in to discuss everything with your parents as soon as they return.”

“Hey, can you hear me?”

I turn my head slightly toward Quinn. I smile at him.

“You don’t know how good it feels to see your eyes, Peyton. Everyone is here: Mom, Dad, and Elle, Liam and Josie, Jimmy and Jenna. They’ve all been waiting for this moment and I’ve gotten to see you open your eyes twice. I think that means you like me the most.”

“Love,” I whisper, but I don’t think he can hear me with this mask on or the fact that my voice is barely audible. I want to ask where Noah is, but I’m not surprised he’s not here. He has a life away from us now, one led by someone I can’t stand.

“Everyone is about to be on TV. Do you want to watch?”

Quinn doesn’t wait for my answer. He pulls the cart closer so I can see. As far as televisions go, this one is fairly small and looks extremely outdated, but on the screen is the band’s manager, Mira, with my dad and uncles standing behind her. I love Mira. She really takes care of the band and has increased their staying power. My dad says there was a time when they struggled with a manager, but since hiring Mira, they’ve been very happy.

“Good afternoon. I want to thank you all for coming out. I know it’s a bit chilly, but I promise to keep this short and sweet. Over the past week, there has been a lot of speculation about 4225 West. I can assure, as you can see behind me, everyone is okay. However, Harrison James’ daughter, Peyton, was involved in a near fatal accident last Sunday. As many of you will recall, Chicago Bears quarterback, Kyle Zimmerman, was also involved in an accident. His passenger was Peyton. As erroneously reported by ESPN, the passenger in Mr. Zimmerman’s car did not pass away on the scene.”

My eyes go wide and according to one of the machines I’m hooked up to, my heart must be racing. I don’t know how I didn’t realize I was in an accident… is that why I can’t move? Mira continues to talk, and I try to focus on what she’s saying, but my mind is wild with questions.

“It is also with great pleasure I can report that Ms. Powell-James is conscious and her status has been upgraded to critical but stable. I will give you my normal spiel and tell you the family requests their privacy during this time, but we all know there is no such thing anymore. We are willing to answer any questions you may have.”

“Will Zimmerman face any charges?” The camera person doesn’t pan to the media gathered, making it impossible to find out who is asking.

“From the family, no. We are unaware if the authorities are pursuing anything. Next?”

“What about the driver of the truck?”

“Yes, he was cited. His charges are pending. Next?”

“How long is Ms. Powell-James expected to remain in the hospital?”

“Her injuries are significant.”

I grunt to get Quinn’s attention. He turns the television down and scoots over to me. “Do you need the nurse?”

I shake my head and point my eyes toward my mask. He removes it slowly. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Quinn returns the oxygen mask. “You were in a really bad accident, Peyton. We thought you were going to die.”

I close my eyes and try to turn away but my body is a prisoner to my injuries and I can barely move. Either way, I don’t want to look at Quinn right now. I don’t want to see what his eyes will tell me… I’m not the same person as I was before.