Leo's Pov:
I carry Calypso into my car and speed off to the E.R. as quickly as I can. When I arrive, tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I park the car and Immediately jump out. I lean back into the car and put Calypso in my arms princess-style. I burst through the doors of the E.R. and immediately a doctor rushes over to me.
"My girlfriend was just hit by a car. Please help. She's okay, right? Right?" I ask as I lay her down on a bed. The doctor examines her and says, "We'll have to do a full examination in a separate room. She's got a pulse, though, she's alive." He then wheels her off down a hall, and I follow. Calypso's face is as white as a sheet, it makes her look, makes her look..I can't even bear to think it. As she gets wheeled into the examination room where a couple doctors are already waiting, I sit down with a heavy sigh outside in a chair. My phone vibrates, and I look at the screen. It reads JASON. I wearily press answer, and I ask, "What's up?" with little enthusiasm.
"No, man, what's up with you? You sound pretty down. Did your date go bad?"
"Yeah, yeah it did. We got hit by a drunk driver. I'm at the hospital now. I'm fine, but Calypso's..." I trail off.
"What? What? How's she?"
I let out a breath. "She's in the examination room now, I don't know yet, but she looked really bad to me."
"That's terrible, I'm sorry. Do you want me to come over?"
"Thanks, but I need to be alone now I think."
"Sure, I get it. Call me when you find out what's up."
"Okay, cool. Bye Jason."
"Bye."
I hang up, just as a doctor comes out of the room. I stand up, and ask, "How is she?"
"You might want to come in and see."
Oh no. That's bad. That's really bad. I walk into the room on wobbly legs. I'm surprised at what I see. Calypso's sitting up, and when she sees me her face lights up in recognition. What? She's okay? I smile, and I'm about to speak until Calypso does. Or tries to. She tries to say my name, but it comes out as one long "aaaa" first she looks frustrated and tries again, and when she can't, she starts crying, and I stand there confused. I look at the doctors with a questioning look on my face as I go over and hold Calypso.
"Why can't she talk?" I ask, partially demanding as my voice cracks.
"She must have hit her head on the pavement, because the part of her brain that allows her to talk has been damaged."
"What? There must be something we can do," I say, starting to lose control of my emotions.
"There's physical therapy, but that will have an effect only over a long period, years," the doctor responds.
No, no no no. There has to be something else. I hope, but I have a sick feeling in my stomach.