Telepathic Love

Chapter 4.1: One Accident, Two Points of View

Isabella's POV

My head was throbbing. My ears were ringing. My whole body hurt. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even call out for help.

"Are you. . . Are you okay?"

I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice but there was no one else around.

"Just hold on, okay?" The voice stuttered again. "Someone. . . Someone is going to come to help you. Just hold on."

"Who are you?" I mumbled before the darkness took over.

I was in and out of consciousness for the next hour or so as the after-accident ritual started. Someone called 911. The ambulance eventually came and I was rushed to the hospital. The last thing I remember is being in the back of the ambulance and a voice that belonged to someone not in the ambulance begging me to stay awake.

"Please," the voice begged. "I don't know what happened, but. . . Just hang on. Please."

* * * * *

"Hello? Are you. . . Are you okay? Are you awake? Please, say something."

My eyes fluttered open, instantly greeted by blinding white lights.

"Where am I?" I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper.

"You're in the hospital."

I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but I was alone.

"What the. . ." I tried to sit up but gasped in pain.

"Are you okay?" The voice came again, louder this time. "What happened?"

I caught my breath as I laid back down. "Hello?" The voice came shakily. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I gasped out.

"What happened?"

"I tried to sit up." I hesitated to ask the burning question. I sighed before asking, "You aren't here in the hospital with me. Are you?"

"No," he laughed slightly. "I'm not. I'm actually in Los Angeles."

"Wow," I cleared my throat. My eyes widened when I realized who this was and what his voice meant.

"You're my. . . You finally. . ."

"I finally formed the connection," he said after I didn't finish my thought. I heard him sigh as he hesitated. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I just. . . There is. . . I was just. . ."

"It's okay," I said, cutting off his stuttering.

"I don't want you to be angry with me or hate me before we even start," he said, his voice sounding soft and insecure.

"I'm not angry with you and I don't hate you," I said without a second of hesitation. "I'm sure you have a reason for waiting this long to connect."

"I'm sorry," his voice broke. "I can explain everything. Why I didn't connect when we were younger, what took me so long, what finally made me connect. Everything."

"It's okay," I smiled. "Maybe later. I'm kind of. . . You know."

I smiled when I heard his laugh. "Right," he chuckled. "Sorry. So, how are you feeling?"

"Kinda numb if I'm being honest."

"What all do you remember?"

"Not much," I shrugged, wincing from the pain. "I think I was driving home from school when it happened. Or maybe my parents' house. That's it. I was having dinner with my parents and it started to rain as I drove home."