Chapter Nineteen: How Will We Survive Without Each Other?

Ellie

I was released from the hospital the next day. I only had a cut on my cheek and a bump on my head, no concussion, and no permanent damage. I was the least hurt in the accident. As soon as I'd regained consciousness in the hospital, I made sure they called my parents. I also called a few of my friends.

I found out last night who really cares about me. My parents didn't show up at all, which, for some reason, didn't really surprise me all that much. I was told that they were busy. The one person who showed up, after everyone I called, was Emma. That really surprised me. Her parents joined her, and made sure I was comfortable. I was very thankful to the three of them. Emma told me that my mom was pregnant, and I cried. They moved on without me, and started to build a completely new family. It was a boy, and he was due in five months. I would be back for his birth, there was no doubt about that, but I did question whether or not I'd be welcome to be there.

I decided that I couldn't let any of that bother me. I'd moved on, and found people who really cared about me. I knew Marco always loved me, and for a long time, that had been all I needed. But I wanted more, and I got it.

After I signed release forms, I went to Jesse's room. He was in a coma, and had been ever since he was hit. After I explained that he had no family, except for his daughter, they gave me information.

Four of Jesse's ribs on his right side were broken. He had a concussion, and both his arm and leg on his right side were also broken. He broke his collar bone and his jaw was crushed. He looked terrible, but I forced myself to stay with him as long as I could. I told him every happy story I could think of, and I prayed that he would wake up. The doctors said that all we could do was wait.

I visited Marco next. He was going to be just fine, they assured me. He also hit his head and lost consciousness. He was sleeping when I visited him, and I was told not to wake him up, so I sat quietly and held his hand. The doctor said that he experienced a panic attack—his second one now—when he woke up on a backboard, still at the scene of the accident. They had to sedate him, and the medication wouldn't wear off for another hour or so.

I couldn't wait that long.

I had to get home. My real home.

Being in a car accident is a scary thing, no matter how much damage is done to the car or the people inside. I realized that anyone could die at any moment, and life is short. I had to get to Thomas. I would make him see that he needed me just as much as I needed him.

I apologized to Marco and kissed his cheek before leaving the hospital.

I had a plane to catch.

Theresa

What has the world come to? I had to ask myself that question over and over. My ex-boyfriend and brother were both in rehab, one for an eating disorder and another for a drug addiction. What kind of a friend and sister am I that I hadn't noticed either of their problems earlier? Maybe people were really right about me—that I was just a bitch who only cared about myself.

Lindsey changed that though, I was sure of it. When I fell in love with him, I was trying to be a better person. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But I've really been trying. Speaking of Lindsey, my boyfriend, he was in jail. And suddenly, no one was here. No one at all.

I sat on the couch, with absolutely nothing to do at all. It would have been pointless to go out anywhere. There's no fun in that if there's no one to share it with. I didn't feel like watching television either.

With nothing else to do, I walked to the park. There were kids everywhere, playing with their parents, throwing balls and frisbees to their dogs. People were having picnics with their families, their friends, their lovers.

I suddenly wished that I had that—all of it. I couldn't remember the last time my parents actually cared enough to take me to the park. I grew up with nannies taking care of me, getting attached to them, then watching them get fired for the dumbest reasons. No one ever played with me, the only friends I had were play dates, and I probably saw my mother and father only on major holidays and occasionally on my birthday.

Sure, I was given anything I asked for; a Barbie jeep, Barbie dream house, even a pony. But it never made me happy. Because, in the end, I didn't have any friends to share them with. The other girls either envied me because they didn't have enough money to buy all of my stuff, or hated me because I had what they wanted. Either way, as a child, I was always crying.

I knew what I wanted to do now. When I was younger, I didn't want to have kids. I had it in my mind that I would have to pay all kinds of money for nannies and maids and other people to watch my kids for me. But now, I wanted to have children, a lot of them. I wanted to give them the life that I never got.

Nate

I officially hate this place. I always though rehab would be pure white. But the place I'm in is colorful. Way too colorful. It's probably because they don't want blood to stain the walls when a patient somehow figures out how to kill him or herself.

I feel like I'm in prison. I know that Tyler packed my bags because he's been to rehab before. They didn't have to take anything away from me because I didn't have any sharp objects. I can't do anything here without supervision.

My head hurt and my body was drenched in sweat. They always say the first three days of getting over an addiction are the worst. I highly doubt I've experienced the worst at all.

I was thinking about asking someone for a pen and paper to write a letter with, when I was told I had a visitor. I really hoped it wasn't Tyler. I feel guilty about the things I said to him, and how I broke up with him. I was never in love, but he was, and I showed no respect for his feelings at all.

I trudged down the hall with an attendant at my side. We got to the "meeting room" and I didn't see anyone I knew around. The meeting room made me feel even more like I was in prison—there were orderlies and guards standing around, watching each pair or group of people to make sure they didn't pass off anything that we could hurt ourselves with. A woman motioned for me to sit down in an armchair. There was a small table in front of me, and another chair across that.

"He'll be right in," she said.

I slumped down in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. Tapping my foot to the soft music that played in the intercom—oh yeah, they had that too—I tried to be patient. Finally, I saw a pair of feet come into my line of sight. Whoever it was sat down and cleared his throat.

I looked up and wanted to run. I wanted to yell to these idiots that they shouldn't have let him in. I wanted to retreat inside myself and never come back out. All of the confidence I had gained since he left was suddenly gone.

"What are you doing here Craig?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. I sat up straight in my chair, but kept my arms crossed. I suddenly felt self conscious. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. "How did you know I was here?"

"Theresa called me. She said that maybe you could do with a visit from me," he explained, leaning forward more. He placed his elbows on the table and smiled at me.

"That's because she didn't know you hit me every chance you got," I spat, narrowing my eyes and trying to move the chair back. It didn't budge; I think it was bolted in place.

"Nate, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I wasn't on my meds; it wasn't entirely my fault. I can't control my anger when I'm off my meds," he complained. Always making excuses.

"Maybe if you hadn't stopped taking them in the first place!" I said, almost yelling it, but remembering where I was. Craig stayed calm, but crossed his own arms.

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested it. So I could finish a poem or something," he said. That got me really angry. He could tell though, because as soon as I was about to open my mouth, he interrupted me. "I'm not trying to blame you at all. I shouldn't have listened to you. It's my fault; I know."

It was my turn to sigh, but after hearing him admit it was his fault, I was able to relax a little. I finally uncrossed my arms and placed my hands, palm down, on the table. We looked at each other for a few minutes but remained silent.

"I shouldn't have come," Craig said, finally breaking the silence. He moved to stand, but for some reason, I grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"No…stay," I said. I didn't know why I did it, and he obviously didn't either. But he sat down anyway, keeping a surprised look on his face. He was so cute. Stop Nate. You're over him now! Don't start this again! "How have you been doing?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Pretty good," he said, nodding. "You?" I laughed and looked around the room.

"Not too good I guess. But hopefully I'll be better," I added, not wanting him to think I was useless. I can do this. "How's Manny?"

"Oh, she's great." He looked surprised that I asked about her—probably more surprised that I remembered her name. How could I forget that name? The name of the girl that came between us…? "We're getting…married." He stated.

"Wow, um…isn't it kind of sudden?" I asked. "I mean, we're only eighteen. Marriage?" I was just really surprised. I wasn't jealous at all. I found in the few minutes of talking to Craig that I was completely over him in a romantic way. I could see us staying friends.

"I'm completely in love with her. I guess I have been since grade nine." He blushed a little, realizing that he was including the time we were together in there.

"It's okay Craig. Some people just aren't meant to be together. I don't regret the time I spent with you—including the bad times too—you made me a stronger person," I said. It was completely clichéd, but I didn't care, and neither did he.

"You helped me find out who I was. Thanks for that," he told me, grinning.

I smiled at him and patted his hand. For the first time that day, I felt like things would turn out for the better. I was actually thankful that Tyler made Rory, Andrew, and Theresa bring me here. I treated him like crap, and I'd have to make it up to him someday.

Rory

We were on our way to the airport to drop Tyler off when we got the phone call. Marco, Jesse, and Ellie were in a car accident. Tyler and Theresa headed off to New York City; Theresa was going to see Lindsey. Andrew and I went to Canada.

We knew they'd been in an accident, but we had no idea how any of them were. The hospital just said that they were given our names. I bit my bottom lip as I rushed to Marco's room, afraid of what I might see. The last time he was in the hospital I was there too. I prayed it wasn't like last time.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I got to the room. Marco wasn't in a coma, and he wasn't all banged up. He was actually pulling his shirt on, all dressed and ready to leave.

"Marco?" At the sound of my voice, he spun around. At first, he just stared at me, obviously surprised that I was there, but he didn't move. Then, suddenly, a huge smile formed on his face and I rushed over to him. We hugged and it felt so good to be in his arms again. I tried to stay like that as long as possible, but he finally pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

"Did you get my letter?" he asked. My stomach flopped around. I didn't like to think about the letter, and I definitely didn't want to talk to Marco about it.

I nodded but said nothing, hoping that he would change the subject.

"Well, forget what it said," he told me, grinning. "I want to be with you."

I was so overcome by happiness that I wanted to jump up and down and scream at the top of my lungs that Marco Del Rossi was mine and he loved me. But I didn't get a chance to do any of that, because his lips suddenly pressed against mine. They felt so warm and inviting.

I backed up, still kissing him, until the backs of my legs hit the bed. I sat on it, and Marco climbed into my lap and began kissing my neck. We eventually ended up lying down.

"Wait," I said, taking a breath. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Marco, you were just in a car accident," I said, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, yeah. I have a concussion, that's all. They said I'm gonna be fine."

"I'm glad." Without another word, he was on top of me again, our kisses getting harder and our bodies slightly rocking back and forth over each other. We may have gotten even farther than that, forgetting we were even in the hospital, but someone cleared their throat above us.

"Excuse me," a woman said. We jumped apart and Marco stood up, his cheeks turning a very dark shade of red. I slowly joined him, equally embarrassed, but the woman—who I guessed to be Marco's nurse—just smiled. "Dr. Tancretti would like to speak with you before you leave."

"Okay, thanks," Marco said, flashing her his best smile. She smiled back before turning around and walking out of the room.

Marco grabbed my hand and kissed me one more time before leading me into the hallway.

Andrew

I paced outside Jesse's room, unable to look inside and unable to enter. The last time Marco was in the hospital, I hadn't even gone at all. I hate hospitals, and ever since Alex died, I promised myself that I wouldn't go in one again.

I wiped my sweaty hands down the sides of my pants and pushed the door open. I wouldn't abandon Jesse. He meant everything to me, and I wasn't going to lose him this time. I prayed that he would be okay, and I knew I would blame myself for the rest of my life if he wasn't.

The doctor already told me he was in a coma, as Marco had been before, but I wasn't quite ready for the sight of him. His jaw was crushed and he didn't look like himself. Dr. Tancretti told me that they had to wait for surgery until he woke up. If he woke up.

I sat down in the chair beside his bed and held onto his hand, just like I saw in movies and soap operas. In those, the character always woke up. They had amnesia, but they woke up. I tried to fuel myself on that belief, on that hope that he would be fine.

It was a big step up for me. I hoped that Marco wouldn't be upset if he found out that I visited Jesse when I hadn't visited him that time. I didn't think he'd be angry. He's Marco. He doesn't hold grudges very long.

"Hey Jesse, it's Andrew," I began. Maybe he could hear me, maybe he couldn't. Either way, I was going to talk. "I want you to know that I really love you. This isn't fake; you're not a replacement for Alex. Yeah, I was in love with Alex. He was my first love. Everyone's first love is the most important to them. I'm sure Rex was that person for you. But that doesn't change the fact that I love you now. Alex and Rex are our past, but I want to be with you now, and in the future.

"This can't be it for us. I won't let you go, not this easily. If you pull out of this, I'll know it's because someone up there actually likes me. I will stop cutting Jesse. I'll stop with all of these stupid suicide attempts, and I'll stop causing myself pain. You are my life now, and you mean everything to me. I can't let it end this way. If you don't make it through this, then I'll make sure I don't either. But if you do, I will be there every step of the way. I won't ever let you down or let you go again."

Thomas

My dad was going to be okay, but I wasn't sure if it was a relief or a disappointment. He told the doctors that it was an accident; that he was teaching me how to use the gun when it went off. An accident.

Part of me wanted to yell at him and the doctor; to tell him that I did it on purpose, that my dad was an asshole who liked to hurt me and I wanted to get back at him. But the other, more rational part of me decided to leave it alone, and hope he left me alone.

I spent some time at the hospital, waiting for him to get out of surgery. It didn't take long and he'd be fully recovered in a month or so. The bullet hadn't hit any organs, and he didn't lose too much blood. He's just the luckiest bastard in the world now, isn't he?

Don't get me wrong; I really wasn't wishing harm on him, no matter what he'd done to me. He's still my father, and I guess I was relieved that he would live. At least now I wouldn't be going to prison.

My father and I didn't talk afterward. He nodded at me when I waved goodbye. Maybe it was progress, or maybe he would never speak to me after I shot him. Either way, I was sure that he'd never lay a hand on me again.

As soon as I left the hospital, I knew where I wanted to go. I booked the first flight to Canada. The flight was a little less than five hours, and I got there on Thursday at one in the afternoon. The problem was: I had didn't know where to go. I knew Ellie lived in Toronto, but I had no idea where in Toronto she lived.

I didn't have to go far though. I was just leaving the airport when I saw her. She stepped out of a cab, pulling a suitcase behind her. She had a cut across one of her cheeks, and she looked pretty beat. But more importantly, she looked beautiful.

"Ellie," I said, walking right up to her. She looked up at me and smiled instantly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised to see me. "What happened?" she gasped, dropping her suitcase and touching my shirt. I looked down and realized that I'd never changed my clothes from the night before, and my father's blood pretty much drenched my entire shirt. Maybe that was why everyone was distancing themselves from me.

"It's a long story," I sighed, reaching out and touching her cheek. "And it's not why I came. I came for you," I told her, taking one of her hands.

"How did you know about the car accident?" she asked me. "I didn't tell them to call you."

"What car accident?" I was starting to get confused. "Is that how you got this?" I pointed to the cut on her face. She nodded, but didn't say anything. "I came here because I wanted to see you. I didn't even know. I wanted to tell you…" I trailed off, not being able to find the right words.

"What did you want to tell me?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"This." I leaned in and kissed her, grabbing onto both of her hands at the same time. When we finally pulled apart, she looked stunned.

"So…what are you saying?" she asked. She was grinning, and she squeezed one of my hands.

"I want to be with you," I said, pulling her into a hug. "As long as you'll have me."

"Of course I will," she said, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close to her. We stayed like that for what seemed like forever, just letting all of the people swarm around us to get into the airport. "Thomas?" she asked after about ten minutes.

"Yeah?"

"Take me home. To L.A."

I could definitely do that.

Marco

"Marco, I'm glad to see you're getting ready to go. Your friend Ellie filled out all of your paperwork for you, and I wanted you to double check everything." He handed me a clipboard and I quickly scanned the paper, ready to get away from him. Rory and I were going to see Jesse before we found somewhere to stay for the night.

"I wanted you to talk to someone about the accident too, just to make sure you're okay. Could you come with me?" he asked. I turned to Rory and he shrugged. "Your friend can come too."

We followed him to his office, where another doctor sat waiting. I saw from the name tag that she was a psychologist. Hmmm.

"Hi Marco, my name is Dr. Hill," she said, holding out her hand. I shook it and sat where I was told, Rory right beside me.

"I'm fine, you know," I said, feeling nervous for some reason.

"Marco, we just wanted to make sure you're not traumatized in any way. I was told you had a panic attack on the scene…" she trailed off, waiting for me to say something.

"I think that's pretty understandable," I told her. I almost felt angry that she was questioning me. "I mean, one minute, I was talking to my friend, and the next minute, the car was rolled upside down. And I woke up with a neck brace on, all alone, hearing the officer say that someone was dead. Now, after I was sedated, and woke up here, I was told that Jesse was okay. I should hope that no one was lying to me," I said, unsure of what I was about to hear next.

"Well Marco, your friend has some serious injuries, and he remains in a comatose state. The only thing left to do now it wait. Once he wakes up, he'll have to get surgery, but other than that, he should recover in time," Dr. Tancretti explained. "But that's not what we wanted to talk to you about."

"Who died?" I asked. I knew it wasn't Ellie either; the nurse told me that she left to go back to L.A.

"Your cab driver." A pang of guilt struck my stomach. Obviously, if I hadn't come to Canada, the man would still be alive. But I couldn't let myself think like that.

"What about the other driver? I heard the officer say something about someone being drunk."

"That is what we wanted to discuss with you," Dr. Hill said, clearing her throat.

"You see Marco, the other driver was drunk, and he passed out at the wheel just before his car hit your taxi. It wasn't until your friend filled out your papers this morning that we realized who the driver is," Dr. Tancretti said.

"Marco, the driver's name is Demario Del Rossi. Your father."

A/N: Here you go, this chapter is up right after I woke up! I'd like some more reviews though guys, I was a little disappointed last time. Took place on Thursday, July 2. The next chapter will take place a month after this one. But, just to warn you, I wasn't talking about the cab driver being the person who dies. Someone else will too. And now for your final guesses…?

Okay, so I have no idea what Marco's dad's first name is. I just picked Demario because it's Italian and I know Marco's Italian. If anyone knows his real name, let me know and I'll change it.

Disclaimer: I got the name, Dr. Tancretti, from Prison Break, but on the show, that was a woman. So I guess they own the name, but not the actual doctor XD. I also own Dr. Hill.