Songs About Jane

Chapter 5- Won't Go Home Without You

*Adam's P.O.V.*

She's beautiful, I think to myself as I hold her hand and sing to her softly, I'm not sure of what else I should do. What gives this asshole the idea that beating her up and breaking this angel in front of me to pieces is alright? It's sickening, just horrible. He can go to hell for all I care, it's where he belongs.

Wait, why do I even care about her? I don't know her, or this sad excuse of a human being laying on the ground, for that matter. But there was something about her, the way she looked up at me through her long eyelashes once everything was okay and she was safe... my heart had stopped. Her eyes were so full of wonder and gratitude and love.

I'm not sure what to do now. She's hurt, and needs to go to the hospital. But should I call the police about this d***? Or would she not want me to, wishing for some reason to keep this all a secret? Did she come with anyone, and would they want to know what happened to her? I give up on that one, I don't even know who they would be, or even this girl's name. It's pointless. They'll find out soon enough anyway.

I carefully pick her up, kicking the son of a b**** out of the way just for good measure. I carry her bridal-style to my car, pulling my keys out of my pocket and hitting the automatic unlock button. The doors click unlocked, and I pull on the door handle to the passenger side. I swing the door open and lay the girl carefully over the seat, buckling her in and shutting the door behind her softly. I race over to the driver's side, get in, and start the car. The engine revs up, and I hit the pedal, speeding out of the parking lot to the hospital. I don't know where the nearest hospital is, but I follow the signs. I don't know this part of town well, a section of suburbs outside of Los Angeles. Yeah, so maybe LA's my town and all, but this part is new to me.

Eventually, I find the hospital, and I drive in and quickly park. I rush her in, and some nurses come to roll her into the emergency room. Once they're inside, one nurse asks me to leave and to wait in the waiting room until further notice. I ignore him, following this mystery girl who's captured my heart. But once they slide her through the big swinging doors, I'm stuck out here, praying that everything will be alright.

***

"Name." The receptionist requests.

"Adam Levine," I say, my fingers gripping the desk until my knuckles turn white. Why can't they just let me see her now!?

She looks up at me in excitement. "Wait... THE Adam Levine!?"

I roll my eyes. The reason I drove off into this part of town was to have some peace and avoid all this bullsh** for one night, but nooo, I can't even do that!

"Yes, THE Adam Levine. Can I please go see her now?!"

The lady gives me a quizzical look, then hands me a sheet of paper. "Will you sign this for me?"

"Where? It's blank."

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "It's your autograph, sign anywhere or take up the whole page. I don't care. And could you make it out to Karen, please."

I crumple the piece of paper and throw it behind me. "No, you're a frickin' receptionist. Do your job and help people, not be selfish and ask for f***in' autographs!" I shout. Calm down, I think. Sheesh, what's gotten into me?

She looks down at her clipboard and mutters to herself. "Kinda an asshole, don't cha think..." I give her a look, and she clears her throat. "Um, do you know her somehow? Family or-"

"Boyfriend," I spit out. Boyfriend? The hell? I don't know, but family sure won't work, everyone knows my family, and I need something closer than just "friend" so they'll let me in faster.

"I don't know-"

"You don't know everything about me!" I snap.

"Fine. How'd she get hurt?"

"She, uh, she fell down the stairs," I lie. What else can I do?

"Fell down the stairs," she repeats.

"Yeah."

She eyes me with a look of suspicion. "She looked awfully beat up..."

"Well, there were a lot of stairs that she fell down! Can we finish this up already?"

She nods. "Just need to verify a few more things..."

She checks everything from my driver's license to what I had for breakfast, and I have absolutely no idea why that matters to the hospital, but she finally lets me go.

"Alright," she explains, "You're free to go. She's badly bruised, but that's it. Nothing broken, no concussion. So you two are free to go!" She ends cheerily.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. Finally!

"The doctor recommended pain relievers, and to just let her rest. She really got beat up by those stairs."

"Uh-huh," I mumble absently. Stairs. Right.

"Well, have a good night, Adam. And keep up the good work! Your band is so good, and I just love watching you on The Voice!" She gushes. I sign her coffee mug, just because she did help and all, and she squeals in excitement. "Wait 'til I tell my friends! They'll be so jealous!" I roll my eyes and walk away, searching for Mystery Girl's designated room. 221. I shake my head. One off from my lucky number. Shame.

I walk in, and there she is, laying on the hospital bed fast asleep. Even under the ugly fluorescent lights of the hospital, she is still beautiful. Her eyebrows are scrunched up in her sleep and one of her small fists clenches the sheet. She must be having a nightmare. All I want to do is smooth out her troubled features and tell her that it'll be alright. No, not tell. Promise. I want to promise her that I'll be here for her, that I'll never let that jerk hurt her again, and... wait, why am I even thinking this!? I don't know her, why do I keep forgetting that?

I pick her up and carry her out the room, through the hall and automatic sliding doors to the parking lot. I buckle her in just like before and start my Aston Martin.

Um... where do I take her from here? Once again, I don't know her so finding her house is out of the question. She doesn't even have her phone with her, for God's sake! That prick better not have stolen her possessions, or I'll kill him. I hope she was with friends and that they have her belongings safe and secure.

I take a turn onto the highway. There's only one thing left to do. I take her home with me.