ICU

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It hit the news within minutes.

> BREAKING: Rising Starlet Isadora Almeida Hospitalized After L.A. Car Accident

Sources say the 16-year-old lead singer of Phantom Youth was rushed to emergency surgery late last night. The band had just performed at a private label showcase in West Hollywood. More details to come.

Twitter was on fire. Fan forums exploded.

TikTok hadn’t even existed yet — but fan pages, blogspots, and LiveJournals were flooded.

#PrayForIsadora trended.

Then came the other leak.

The so-called “kiss pic.”

And 20 minutes later — a takedown thread by a sharp-eyed fan.

> “This pic is fake. Look at the shadow. And this exact outfit? Tom wore it two months ago.”

Then:

> “I go to their school. That girl’s name is Annika Brandt. She’s had a thing for Tom since forever.”

By the hour mark, screenshots of Annika’s old comments and forum posts started to resurface.

> "If I can't have him, no one should."
"His new little girlfriend won't last."

And then: silence.

Dr. Wexler had seen a lot.

But not like this.

She was just a kid. Fifteen maybe.

Bleeding from a rib fracture. Brain swelling. Lacerated liver.

“Her heart’s stopping!” someone shouted.

Once.

Adrenaline.

“Clear!”

Pulse.

Then again.

“No rhythm! Start compressions!”

Twice.

“Don’t let her go—!”

A third time. Just long enough to feel the worst.

Then… she gasped.

Air returned. The monitors steadied.

“She’s stable — for now.”

Dr. Wexler looked at her — this girl with music in her blood and a tattoo written in someone else’s handwriting on her ribs — and whispered,

“You’ve still got a song to finish, kid.”

Isadora’s mother, Teresa Almeida, had flown straight from São Paulo.

She hadn’t even changed clothes. Her suitcase was still in the hallway.

She held Isadora’s stuffed turtle from childhood in her lap, shaking.

“I told her to be careful. I told her…”

Nina sat beside her, barely holding herself together. Her mascara was smeared, her voice hoarse.

“She was careful,” she whispered. “Someone else wasn’t.”

Tom sat in the corner.

Still.

Silent.

When the nurse stepped in and said, “She’s out of surgery,” everyone stood at once.

“She’s alive. But it was close.”

Bill handed Tom a printout from the fan thread.

“Annika,” Tom said quietly. “I didn’t even speak to her this year.”

“She got her fifteen minutes,” Georg muttered. “But she almost killed someone for it.”

Tom didn’t answer. He was staring out the window.

The sunrise was breaking through the L.A. smog.

“I just want her to wake up.”

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