I got the call a month later.

     The blaring buzz of my phone vibrated on the nightstand beside me ripped me from sleep. I remember the time as if it was branded straight into my brain. The ungodly hour of 3am, glaring back at me from my alarm clock. I was still groggy with sleep when I reached for my phone, but it was the caller id that ultimately washed away the grogginess.

I answered immediately, no hesitation.

     “Elliott? Elliott what is it?” my voice had been shaky, my heart was a lead ball, slowly dripping down into my stomach.
At first there had been no answer, just what sounded like someone breathing on the other.

I tried again, “Elliot? What’s the matter? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I had been frantic at this point; I had gotten up from my bed and turned on the light. My mind was thinking the worst. 
It felt like an eternity but finally his voice came through, shaky and terrified.

     “Elenore… I need help. I – I got in an accident. Please, please can you help me? Please – please can you pick me up? I – I don’t really know where I am, but I can send my location.”

    There was no hesitation, I was already out the door and in my car when I asked him to send his location. I was on the phone with him all the whole time, just silence from both ends.

** ** **

     His car had been wrapped around a tree. To this day, I would say it was a miracle that he survived. He sat leaning against the driver’s side, his head in his hands. He didn’t even realize that I had pulled upside him till I crouched in front of him. I had pried his hands from his face, pupils dilated, and his gaze was unfocused.

    He couldn’t stand on his own and when he tried his legs had threatened to collapse out from under him. I remember baring most of his weight as I half – walked half – dragged him back to my car.

     “Wh-what about my…car?” Elliott had slurred.

    “A problem for the morning.” I remember telling him as I helped him into the passenger seat.

     “It’s back, Queenie! It’s back and this time I don’t think a surgery can remove it!”

My world had fallen out from under me. I knew exactly what he meant. And as much as I wanted to break, I had to deal with the problem at hand.

    “A problem for the morning, Ellie.” I had said as I buckled him up at closed his door.  

     He was curled up in my seat. His head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he had pleaded with me to not tell his dad, to not take him to the hospital, to leave him and let him die. I remember crying as I put my car in drive, my heart and my mind fighting with each other on what to do.

     “I’m sorry Ellie, but I have to – you have to go to the hospital.” I had whispered to him, watching him from the corner of my eye. “You’re in bad shape, you need help.”

     “I’m scared! I’m scared!” he had cried.

His soft cries grew, and my heart shattered, but he didn’t fight me.