Love Impact

Okay, I need to admit something— I'm a terrible driver.

Just the worst. Every morning as I'm gripping my steering wheel, knuckles white as ghosts, I curse the unmotivated DMV woman who let me pass my driver's test. The way she flicked that pen on her paper so slowly and carefree, I should've realized that she had already accepted a fate of death getting in that car with me. I really hope she's doing okay regardless. One thing's for sure, though, I'm definitely not okay.

The minute I stepped into my car this morning, something just felt off. It took me an extra 10 minutes to get dressed, adding an extra 10 minutes to my commute. On top of that, my fuel tank was a tick short of empty, so I had to make a stop. On top of that, I had to take a detour due to construction on my daily route. I thought everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

While bobbing my head to the rhythms of soft classic rock, the warm, flowery breezes of the fresh Spring morning tickled my face through the car window. I inhaled the fragrance with a slight smile. Even if life was proving to be difficult, the small simple things seem to make up for it. The drive to and from work felt like my only moments of solitude.

Rows of cars surrounded me everywhere I looked, and I could a hear an orchestra of car honking behind me. I looked in my side window to see a man on a motorcycle weaving in and out of traffic only inches away from the vehicles waiting. I could hear some people shouting at the provocative way this man cut through. He was intentionally testing their patience, his expensive motorcycle exuding the same arrogance as his movements.

I scoffed. I may not be very good at driving, but I did my best to be courteous on the road. The biker stopped next to me as I sat waiting for the light to turn green. The sun glimmered off of his pitch black helmet and leather jacket. He let the handles of his motorcycle go and leaned back with his head tilted up slightly. Something about the way he bounced from one foot to the other was hypnotizing. He turned to me and gave me a gentle wave. I turned away flustered. I didn't expect him to notice me staring. My intrusive thoughts desperately urged me to leave my car and yank his helmet off like some sort of a Scooby-Doo villain.  I shook my head trying to dismiss those thoughts. There was probably an old man under that helmet anyways.

Loud, obnoxious honking broke my thoughts and I suddenly realized traffic in front of me had begun to move quickly. A mix of guilt and adrenaline shot through me and I hit the gas petal much harder than anticipated.

SCREEEEECH

My body jolted forward as sounds of clanging metal and plastic filled the air. My breath caught in my throat and I clamped my eyes closed in anticipation of what's to come. The seatbelt dug into my body until my car came to a halt. When I opened my eyes, I saw debris in the road in front of me and a familiar motorcycle not too far from where I was stopped. No. Oh no. No no no. I unclicked my seatbelt and dashed out of my vehicle. Other than a slight soreness in my chest, I had come

He was lying on the road writhing in pain, unable to decide whether he should be swaddling his broken arm or broken leg. His jacket had scraped up pretty badly and his jeans were nearly shredded. He was coughing violently. The smell burning rubber and smoke stung my nose as I exited my vehicle.

I ran over to him in a panic and looked around hoping to see someone stop and help. Everyone was too busy trying to drive around the debris to notice the badly injured person on the ground. The world is a selfish place where people would rather get to work on time than help another human being. But I had no time to linger on that thought. After all, I was the one at fault.

I hovered my hands around him trying to see if there was anything I could do to help. Tears clouded my vision, but I made my way to his helmet and gently pried it off. Instant regret washed over me when I realized I was probably doing more harm than good.

I wanted to see what this man looked like earlier, but I never wanted to this way. He was coughing up blood and seemed completely disoriented. I ran back to my car to grab my phone and frantically dialed 911. It took several seconds to steady my breath enough to finally ask for an ambulance.

_____________________________

Beep...   Beep...   Beep...

Damien's breathing was steady, rhythmic, soft. That's his name: Damien.

I had accompanied him to the hospital in the ambulance, pretty much leaving everything behind. He was a stranger to me, but I didn't want anyone to get hurt. Seeing a man holding onto his life by a thread was completely, utterly terrifying. Doctor Adams, the one assigned to Damien, informed me that he had no emergency contacts or family members to contact. I stayed with him, of course. I wasn't going anywhere until I knew he was okay.

They had treated all of his injuries, but the severe internal bleeding made Damien exhausted. He had glanced at me very briefly with his eyes half open before being wheeled into a room for treatment.

I looked up at the clock ticking above the door -- midnight. It had been 15 hours since the crash, but it felt like it was only moments ago. I could still hear the grinding of the metal, ear deafening screech, and the wretched coughing as Damien clung onto life.

I looked over at him and admired his long, brown eyelashes draped delicately over his olive-tan skin. He looked to be in his mid-20s, same as me. His dark brown hair was short and slightly tapered in the back with soft curls near the top, nestled messily over his head bandages and into the hospital pillow. His face was jagged and rough with patches of short facial hair here and there and couple of scrapes still left over from the accident.

I had been sitting there anxiously sifting through the barrage of thoughts filling my head. Once Doctor Adams assured me Damien was fine, the financial dread had begun to envelop me. How will I get to work without my car? How will I afford my new insurance rates? The traffic ticket, the deductible, the hospital bills. Damien would surely want to sue me once he wakes up. I nearly cost him his life. A heavy burden had been placed on my shoulders and the first step was to convince this man to have mercy on me. My stomach was in knots thinking about how part of the reason I stayed at his bedside was for my own selfish reasons.

I lay my head down on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I am so fucked," I muttered softly to myself.

"That makes two of us."

I gasped and sat straight up. Damien was looking over at me with a smirk on his face.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Hmm not sure. Opened my eyes and saw the woman that tried to kill me having a pity party next to me."

I looked away in embarrassment. I had rehearsed a thousand times what I would say to him when he woke up, but all of that had disappeared after hearing his voice. It was smooth and a little rough, not too deep but just enough. It was hard to describe, but it's the kind of voice you wouldn't mind listening to for hours.

"Look... I uhh... I'm sorry," I let out a deep breath and looked back over at him, "I'm really really sorry. Driving just isn't my thing and I should've been more careful. Please forgive me. I can't afford to be sued right now. I'm really broke. I'll do anything. Please."

I knew I was rambling but couldn't stop myself. Damien propped up his unbroken arm against the bed and sat himself up with a groan. I reached out to him hoping to offer some sort of assistance, but he shook his head. Instead my eyes gravitated to his biceps as they flexed from his movement. Not the time, Valencia.

"What's your name?"

I hadn't even introduced myself before bombarding him with apologies.

"Valencia Rodriguez, but you can call me Val if you'd like."

"Well, Val, I'm Damien Stathos."

"Yeah I know. The doctor told me..."

"Come closer, Valencia."

The way he said my name sent chills down my spine. No one ever calls me by my full first name. I hesitantly complied and scooted my chair closer to the bed.

"No. Come closer. I want to see the woman that tried to murder me today."

My cheeks grew hot. This guy was clearly messing with me, but the guilt was overbearing. I leaned close enough to where I could almost feel his breath on my face. His hazel eyes were twinkling with mischief. He grabbed a strand of my wavy, black hair and ran it through his fingers.

"You said you would do anything right?"

"Y-yeah," I stuttered out. He flashed me a grin.

"Come live with me."