I Was on The Voice: A NBC's "The Voice" Fanfiction [COMPLETE]

Chapter Eleven

As everything went black, I felt like I was sinking into a deep darkness, being pulled further and further in. I heard yelling, but it sounded like I was hearing it through a thick layer of glass. Then, I completely passed out and all sound was cut off.

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“---She is going to be fine, right?”

“We hope so.”

“You hope?”

“I’m sure she’ll be okay.” A nervous, accented voice. Not sounding too confident.

“Well, I don’t think this has ever happened to a contestant on this show before...” Another voice chipped in.

“$^$%@$#%$^@^%$^@$$^^@#$#@$^%$&^@@%$^!$^%$&#%^” Said a southern drawl.

“Woah dude, even I don’t cuss that much.”

“I bet you want to,” the southerner argued.

“That’s not the point.”

“BOYS, this isn’t time for another one of your silly arguments,” the accented voice said.

As I listened, I was slowly drifting back to complete consciousness. As I did so, I suddenly realized that it was the four Voice judges talking, and they were talking about me.”

I shot up, sitting up very suddenly. “Ow, okay, bad idea,” I mumbled as pain coursed through my head, and all their heads shot in my direction. It was the four of them- Adam, Shakira, Usher, and Blake, as well as a doctor.

My head felt like it had been run over by a truck. And then that truck had backed up over my head, and run over it again. And those tires were spiked.

All the memories came flooding back to me. Peter reaching back for his jacket...and then we were spinning, spinning out of control, glass flying everywhere. I remembered holding up Peter’s jacket to try to block the glass, and then we were flying...there was a thud, and then I blacked out.

My right hand and forearm were bandaged, indicating that I must’ve landed on some of the glass. It was really just my head that was killing me.

“Where’s Peter?” I asked suddenly, wanting to know if he was okay. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam frown. Weird.

“He’s okay,” the doctor said. “You got most of the impact from the crash, so Peter’s injuries are much less severe. He’s resting at the moment.”

Much less severe? My arm wasn’t that bad so...my head must’ve been pretty beaten up.

A redheaded nurse scurried in. “Sir, the other one, Peter, is awake,” she told the doctor quickly.

“Good, let these lot in to see him,” he instructed, motioning to the four judges, who followed the nurse out.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

The doctor looked down at his watch. “About twelve hours.”

Twelve hours! “And who brought me here?” I continued.

“An ambulance.”

“Who called the ambulance?”

“Your coach Adam.”

My heart stopped. Of all people, Adam was the one to call the ambulance? I had assumed it would’ve been one of the pedestrians who had seen the accident.

“Did he see the crash?”

The doctor shook his head. “He and the other coaches came as soon as they heard. They saw the footage of it afterwards. Someone had called the show, but for some reason most of the nearby pedestrians were trying to get a hold of the cops instead of calling the hospital. The man driving the truck that crashed into you was drunk.”