Emily got the call at 12:15 A.M. Her phone buzzed and the screen lit up, "Razor." What did he want? Ever since that afternoon she had been completely and utterly miserable. She had been so close to making up with Damon. SO close. But she had shut him out and then he hadn't let her in. No wonder! Who did she think she was expecting him to wait around for her. And even now it still broke her heart to remember "Those 12 months were the hardest thing I've ever done I need to focus on my album and you need to focus on gymnastic ." The anguish in his voice as he said it. She'd been curled up in a ball sobbing on her hotel bed ever since she'd gotten back. She couldn't wait till she could just leave on her six o'clock flight tomorrow morning back to Boulder. She'd never look back, not now; it was too late for that now. She didn't pick up the phone. Razor left a message.
"Hey Emily, this is Razor, I'm calling because Damon got hit by a car this afternoon and it doesn't look good. He's been asking for you," by this time she had picked up the phone with trembling fingers and answered the call. "Razor !?" "Emily?" "Yes Razor it's Emily , I'm on my way right now I think what hospital?" "Franklin ." "Okay I'm coming." She tried her best to punch the address into her phone, even with her shaking fingers but it wasn't easy. Finally she managed it though. "Razor , what happened? How bad is it?"' She was running out the hotel lobby and to her rental car. "A lot of broken bones but they're most worried about a broken rib that punctured his lung." "Oh dear God," she breathed as she started the car. "He's been in and out of conciseness ever since I got here which is about an hour." "Okay I've gotta drive now, I'll be there as soon as I can!" "Okay, see you soon Emily." "Bye." Razor sounded demoralized. Emily was shaking and her face had blanched white and though she felt like crying she couldn't, this was too shocking to be real. The bright streets passed by in a blur. Everything felt surreal, bizarre in some waking nightmare . Almost out of body in a way. She pulled up in front of the pristine, well lit, white and red building and felt like her heart was pounding into her throat. She swallowed it and walked up to the automatic glass door. She looked around, dazed. "Miss can I help you?" Desk Receptionist Walk Over. There. "Um yes, I think so I'm looking for a Damon Young?" "Oh yes, he was admitted three hours ago. He's on ICU, that's floor five. Room 539."
"5,539. 5,539. 5,539…" she mumbled as she walked distractedly towards an elevator. She pressed the button for floor 5 and her stomach lurched as the elevator took off. Oh dear God let him live. "Please don't take him from me…" she whispered. The janitor she hadn't even known was there gave her an odd look. She smiled and felt that she probably looked like the joker. She left the elevator and scanned the long, ominous hall. 545, she'd gone too far. She reluctantly took six steps back down the hall and stood in front of the white door with three black numbers on it, 539. And suddenly she didn't want to see what was on the other side, she wasn't prepared to handle all this pain and suffering. She didn't want to know what broken bones and shattered ribs looked like. She stared at the silver door handle and swallowed there was no saliva left in her mouth. A clock was ticking nearby and it sounded like cannons in her ears, Boom, boom, boom, boom boom… louder than her racing heart. Then she thought of him, in pain, suffering, asking for her, desperately wanting to see her…she knocked. Razor was there instantly. "Hi." "Hey, how is he?"