I'm just twenty miles away from reaching my destination, Minneapolis, when my car breaks down..in the middle of a road with no cars, houses, or people near it. The country.
I'm hungry, exhausted, and in desperate need to see Misha. Honestly, this situation couldn't get any worse. I don't know anything whatsoever about cars so there's no way I can fix it. At this point, I'm so stressed out I just collapse on the ground and begin to let out my emotions.
So there I am, sobbing on the side of the road desperately hoping someone drives by.
After a painfully long hour of waiting, I eventually lie down in my car and close my eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep. The next morning, I wake up just as the sun rises.
"Ugh." I groan as I sit up. My back is extremely sore from sleeping on the back seats.
I slowly manage to get out of my car and stretch. I notice slip of paper on attached to my windshield.
In sloppy writing it reads, "Left some gas in your car. -Helpful stranger".
I sigh with relief, once again, get back in my car. Misha's probably out of the freaking hospital by now.
I start the engine and drive the last hour to get there. I look in the rear-view mirror at a red light and see what I look like. Let's just say I do not look human anymore.
Anyways, I finally find the hospital that Misha checked in to and pull into the driveway, smoothing my hair down with one hand. I jog in and head towards the lobby.
"Is Misha Collins here?" I ask a lady sitting at the front desk.
"No, sorry. He just checked out just this morning." she answers, smiling and going right back to her laptop.
Seriously. All that for nothing? Now I'm even more mad.
"Well where is he??" I try not to sound too rude.
"He said he's going to the Comic Con Expo Center." she replies.
So I run out the door, back in my car, and continue to drive. Why would he go to the convention if he was hurt? He really does love his fans.
I arrive at the the convention center in just a few minutes and walk to the front gate. I quickly purchase a general admission ticket at the door..with the only money I have left.
I head straight to the autograph/photo op room and look around for Misha.
I eventually spot him doing photo ops. His eye is clearly bruised and he has a busted lip. Although he's smiling, I can tell he is in pain.
I attempt to walk up in front of the line to see him, but a security guard stops me.
"It's fine. She's my girlfriend." Misha reassures the guard, finally noticing me.
As I walk closer to him, I see even more cuts and bruises. Another wave of sadness hits me.
At least I'm here with him..now I know that he's okay, and that's all that matters.