Young Writers Society

Chapter Two:

The studio called Elijah back in the next day. Pesky jobs, they always make you hold schedules even when life starts getting interested. Over the last few years Elijah was the only one who had snagged a recording contract. It took him a long time to accept that the other guys supported him this new adventure, and that he no longer would be apart of a group. Mario realized he enjoyed producing and creating music magic rather than sit around and have people do it for him. Luke on the other hand felt like the night life was incredible head-turning and profitable in Nashville, so he bought the bar they use to play gigs at and continued the business nearly the same. Who knew conversations over pool with a bunch of drunks could be so fun?

Mario had called off all of his appointments so he could say by Isabella's side, should she wake up. He didn't want her to be alone, but looking at her he realized how empty was inside, where there had been yearning and wanting her, needing her skin to skin touching him, there was now a realizing, growing sensation of indifference. He wanted the best for her, and maybe he wasn't it. Some how a fire pit of jealous embered in his stomach. He did love her once upon a time.

Mario held her hand with a gentleness unbeknownst to him, a cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck, “Belle, I need you to know that I did love you, but I also want what's best for the both of us. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have. I know you know about all the other women... the times I couldn't be faithful and the times I couldn't be sorry... Well, right now... I'm so sorry. I don't know if you'll ever forgive me, I don't even know if you can hear me...” He kissed her hand, getting up to leave.

Why isn't the machine alerting them that my pulse is not around two hundred? My blood is thickening with anger, if only he could hear me scream, feel the slap sting across his face. I want him to hear me! What did I ever do wrong? What a complete... jerk, of course he would be the one to break up with me this way, so I couldn't retort, what a coward. You never loved me! Do you love all those whores?! You never loved me!... He never loved me. Isabella thought, as Mario kissed her forehead and wiped away what he thought was sweat from her cheek, but was a single solitary tear.

When Mario was out of sight, Isabella opened her eyes. The light burned at her retinas and the smell slinked it's way through her nostrils stinging her throat. Her head was throbbing; what it yesterday, today, or tomorrow, morning, noon, or night? How long had she been out of it? Earlier in the day her doctor lessened her medication, took her off the ventilator, and helped her take her first few breaths and words awake to the world. They ran some early test and allowed her to rest. She had wanted to surprise Mario, when he came in. She thought he would have been excited to see her, but by the middle of his speech she was too hurt to do anything but lay motionless and wait for him to leave.

Back in the hallway, Mario bumped into Elijah on his way to the elevator. “Hey Elijah, do you think Belle can hear you if you talk to her right now?” Mario asked, with a trembling hand resting on the back of his neck, and his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“I don't know too much, but I think she does... just to feel better about all of this I guess. Why?” Elijah raised his eyebrow and leaned back on his right leg.

“Oh, no reason.” Mario let the elevator doors cut off their conversation.

Elijah stood at the elevator doors a few seconds before slowly heading back to Isabella's room. She glowed, laying there peacefully asleep. He couldn't help but question Mario and all the decisions he had made in the last week. What kind of person wouldn't love her? He gingerly held her hand, while putting her hair behind her ears, away from her face.

“I hope Mario didn't come in here acting a fool. He's been acting insincere lately, and if he said anything hurtful, I'm sorry.” Elijah felt her squeeze his hand, and he jumped a little in his seat, not expecting it.

“Belle! You're awake?”

Isabella just nodded as the tears she desperately wanted to swallow away, brimmed at her eyes.

“What's wrong?” Elijah, in that moment, realized Mario was the womanizing bastard he had wished he wasn't.

“Mario...” she sighed and tried to start again, “It's been a long time coming. It is best that we separate; we have grown apart, but it still hurts to hear him physically say it out in the open.” She hadn't noticed she started crying; she was just trying to convince herself that this was final and for the best. Elijah sat on the edge of her bed, and did his best to cradle her, soothing her.

She felt safe and warm in his big, strong arms. Her tears quickly stopped, soaking into his shirt. All she wanted to do was melt into him. Their hug, to Isabella, lasted only a few seconds before the doctor came in to check on her. The doctor asked Elijah to step out into the hall while he checked Isabella's wounds.

When the doctor walked out of Isabella's room, and told Elijah, “Ms. Hope seems to be healing quite nicely, and on complete bed-rest and a heavy medication schedule, she should be able to go home tomorrow evening.”

“Okay, thank you so much for taking such great care of my... of her.” Elijah shook the doctor's hand vigorously and walked back into Isabella's room.

“Well, it seems as though I'm not as disposable as you thought.” Isabella flashed her handy dandy smile that kept everyone at ease, except herself, so unsure of the coming weeks.

Elijah returned the smile, sinking into the chair across from her bed. After a few moments of silence, Elijah looked up and saw Isabella's face scrunched up with a furrowed brow.

“Are you feeling well?” His eyes darted around the room for a trashcan.

“Well... I was just thinking... No one's really explained to me how I got here. Yes, they told me I was in a car accident, but I don't remember anything... Would you ind telling me what you know?” She laced her fingers together and placed them in her lap, waiting for a story.

“Of course, let's start at what you actually remember, which is?” Elijah waited as she filled him in on her memories.

“I just remember driving to work. The freeway was close to empty, my favorite part because I can drive any which way I like, fast, slow, or just right ya know? My favorite song was on the radio, Walking After Midnight by Patsy Cline. This is where it gets a little fuzzy; I had the windows down singing to the music, and then, I wake up here a few days later.” Isabella looked off into the distance feeling the same fear she had felt early that morning, an unknown sensation run wild and free through her body.

Thank goodness Elijah pulled her back to reality by saying, “The police said the person next to you switched lanes at ninety miles an hour and had been texting at the time. Your car was pushed between his and the concrete median. You were in tremendous pain, so you were placed into a coma. Other than a few broken ribs, cuts, and bruises, you are going to be okay. They did have to cut your hair because it had become ripped and tangled from the crash.” Elijah slowed his words to a stop, as he saw her mouth fling open and eyes become deer-like-in-head-lights mode.

“Get me a mirror!” Isabella screamed reaching up to grab her hair. This can't be happening! I haven't cut my hair since I was twelve years old!

Elijah looked in her nightstand until he found a small handheld hospital mirror; Isabella yanked it from his grip before he could even shut the drawer close. Her eyes dropped and brimmed with tears. She let out a breath of hot air, desperation, and sadness.

“It's just hair; it'll grow back,” Elijah told her, trying to make her feel better, but by the look on her face, that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

Isabella kept grabbing at her hair like if with each swift motion her hair would magically reappear in that instant. She tried to hide the tears falling over the edge of her eyes and cascading down her face, but she lost that fight when Elijah reached over and rubbed her upper arm.

After a few minutes, she said, “I must seem pretty silly, crying over hair, but I've never had short hair. I look awful!” Isabella pulled away from Elijah's touch, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“No, it's not stupid; if I woke up one morning and I was bald, I would die just the tiniest bit on the inside.” Elijah smiled, making Isabella laugh. “Now, Belle, the doctor said that by tomorrow evening you'll probably be able to go home, but on strict medications and bed-rest. I was thinking, since you and Mario aren't on such great terms, that you could stay at my house.”

“Sometimes, Elijah, you are too nice. I couldn't do that to you. I think Mario and I can put our differences aside until I get a place of my own.” Isabella looked deep into Elijah's sincere, blue eyes, getting lost.

“No, I insist.”

“You don't need me sitting at your house, taking up your space and time, really I'll be fine,” Isabella said sternly.

You're great company and a wonderful friend. You won't be taking up my time; we'll just be enjoying it together.” Elijah smiled at her stubbornness that gave her this inner fire and light.

“Fine, but no more than I need you.” Isabella crossed her arms gingerly, in protest.

“Let's call Luke and Destiny to tell them your awake and well; they've been worried about you too.” Elijah grabbed for his cell phone.

“Okay, but let me freshen up, while you call them. Hand me that rubber band and a cool cloth from the bathroom, please.” Isabella said, as he dialed their number.

Elijah handed her the rubber band and a wet wash cloth. Isabella pulled her new, short hair into a messy, tangly pony tail and wiped the sleep and grim from her non-make-up face; this was new to her. While waiting on the Ford's to show up, Isabella fell asleep from a little magic called pain medication. It sent her to worlds and fantasies beyond her wildest dreams, places she wished she could stay forever.

“How is she?” Destiny asked, anxious to see her friend.

'Everything looks fine. The doctor said she should finish healing in a few weeks and that she could go home tomorrow on bed-rest. Her and Mario are having problems, so she'll be staying with me.” Elijah explained to Destiny in the hallway.

“What do you mean they're having problems? She just woke up out of a coma.” Destiny asked, her voice raising with each word.

“Apparently, Mario thought this would be the perfect time to explain to Isabella his true feelings, so they've broken up, I guess. I don't know what he said exactly, but I do know that she was pretty upset. You're a girl, you talk to her about those problems.” Destiny just shook her head in disbelief.

“I'm going to go sit with her. Go home, get some rest, you look like hell, but I'm sure she appreciates just how sweet you are.” Destiny kissed his cheek before joining Luke by Isabella's side.

Elijah took Destiny's advice and headed towards the parking lot. He got into his car and relaxed into the seat, closing his heavy eyes. Maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad, but the minute he felt his body relaxing, his mind reminded him of the unfinished conversation he had intended to finish. He straightened his body, clenched his fist around the steering wheel, pounded his foot on the gas pedal, and headed straight for the interstate.