| Wattpad Editor's Choice | Jason Lovett, a no-nonsense guitar-player, is leaving New York to get to a career-making gig in LA. But before he gets far, his car breaks down. Being stranded without a car or money and running short on time to get to th...
"Time flies. It's up to you to be the navigator." ~ Robert Orben
•••
When I regained some blurry form of consciousness, I was confused as to why my face was on the asphalt and why I felt like I had just been hit by a semi. And then I heard the sirens and it all came back. I was hit by a semi. We were almost to Grant's, but the...
I tried to sit up and frantically tried to turn my head.
Where was Della?
"Sir? Sir, I need you to remain still," a calming, distant voice said. It sounded otherworldly, like it didn't belong among the obnoxious wailing of the sirens and roaring cars.
Being stubborn as usual, I ignored the cautionary tone in the person's voice and tried to move anyway. It hurt like hell. I definitely hissed a nasty word or two.
"Sir, you need to be still!" the voice cried in concern.
"Della?" I croaked, ignoring the murmurs of frustration coming from the other person. I groaned in pain as I tilted my head, only just realizing that the whole car was on its side. The entire top of the convertible was completely gone, ripped right off the Beetle and daylight was flooding in.
I had somehow slipped partially out of my seat and was laying sideways with my face against the broken window and asphalt. Something stung near my eyes, and I reached up to touch the painful area.
Blood.
My blood.
I grimaced and finally managed to turn to the driver's seat, where Della had been during the wreck. "Dell—"
My heart stopped.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I'm not sure what I expected. Maybe I thought I'd see my starry-eyed companion laughing at my distress, telling me to relax and be patient. Perhaps I hoped she would be taking another picture of our current mess so we could laugh about it later.
But she wasn't.
Della Rae, the perfectly imperfect girl with the blog and camera, hung limply in her seat with her eyes closed, her pastel hair stained crimson and falling into her face.
It took the medics pulling me away to get me to focus. I fought everyone with every ounce of strength and stubbornness I had left in my body to get to the strange angel in the driver's seat.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
