Page 123 of Rock Me

I flip open the folder and see it's filled with official reports and news articles and tabloid pictures of the scene. There are private photos probably taken by the guys in our entourage of me bloodied and bruised on the bed, the whole band surrounding me, Anca looking tired, eyes red from crying.

My stomach flips and I almost stop. I didn’t want to know about this. I’d been too involved with my own recovery, that I never really thought about the effect it had had on everyone around me.

But it’s not the whole story without them. So I let my heartbeat slow, taking deep breaths before I continue flipping through the pages.

I pull the police report from the pile. Everything, details in black and white.

The date. The location. Pedestrian hit, Jeremy Petrescu. That's me.

Driver found unconscious at the scene. Severe head injuries to the front and back of her skull. Noémie De Bruyn. That's her, I remind myself. Noémie was the driver who hit you.

Passenger also unconscious, revived by paramedics at the scene.

Vehicle, car, 2017 Viper Dodge.

Green.

Totaled at the scene.

Patrons at the bar heard the accident and came over, and called the paramedics.

Wait.

Hang on.

I go back and reread the details. No. It can't be. I flick through the pictures, looking for something to confirm what I have read.

Oh my god.

Oh my god! That can't be!

I can't believe it. I grab the papers and run out into the room.

"GUYS! Wake UP! WAKE UP!"

Brad comes running out of his room, Emily follows, tightening the belt around her robe.

"What's up, what's going on?"

"I can't explain right now. Just... get me a car. And grab the others. We have to go, now!"

"Go where?" Brad says, picking up the phone.

"You'll see!" I yell, running into my room to quickly pack a bag.

"You're crazy,” he calls after me.

"Maybe. We're about to find out."