The next moments swim past me in a panicked haze. Peyton's words sound muffled and it feels like my head is underwater and she's calling out to me. My throat feels like it may close at any second, and my hands tighten on the blanket wrapped around me. Every one of my limbs feel numb.

Tommy, Violet, and Gracie got into an accident. It's really bad, Riv.

The world blurs around me, and all I can do is struggle to put my clothes on. Gray bolts out of bed, and I can't hear the things he's asking Peyton. All I hear is the urgency, the raw panic in his voice. I feel dizzy, pulling on my clothes and watching Gray run rampant around the house, looking for his keys.

On the kitchen counter, next to the dishes from our dinner, I see both our phones lying next to each other. My heart drops and I tap my screen.

34 missed calls from Peyton
52 missed calls from Violet
44 messages from Peyton
103 messages from Violet

With a shaky finger, I tap Gray's screen.

3 missed calls from unknown number
23 missed calls from Tommy
20 messages from Tommy

"Where the fuck are my keys?" Gray yells, flipping over couch cushions and pulling the room apart.

"Tommy has them," I manage to say, remembering their conversation at my birthday party. Tommy and Violet took his car and now there's been an accident and why was Gracie with them and I can't fucking breathe. "Tommy and Violet have your car."

Gray curses loudly and kicks the kitchen island, creating a loud sound that resonates deep in my bones. Peyton is sobbing somewhere near me but I'm hardly aware of her. I'm hardly aware of anything.

There's been an accident. An accident.

"I can drive," I say shakily. "My car is here."

Gray picks up our phones and my keys, and then the three of us are going down to the garage and piling into my car. The radio immediately blasts music from the pop music station I had on, and Gray turns the radio off. None of us speak but Peyton's soft sobs fills the whole car. I need to cry but I can't. I'm miles past the threshold of sadness, and a numb feeling coats my body.

I just drive to the hospital Peyton told us they're at. Tommy, Violet, and Gracie. In the hospital. My stomach tightens.

There's barely anyone on the road at this time so I speed through the night, weaving across lanes haphazardly to avoid the few other cars driving. Gray is a statue next to me, gripping the center console between us with a death grip. Fear is growing in the pit of my stomach, and I can't imagine what he's going through right now.

"Tommy and Violet have been trying to reach you for an hour but you weren't answering," Peyton chokes out, hiccupping with emotion. "Violet called me to get you and she was a fucking mess. I could hardly understand what she was saying over the phone."

Gray turns on his phone and breathes deeply as he reads his messages from Tommy. Then he laughs in the worst way--coldly and cruelly. Then he throws his phone onto the dashboard and rubs his face. I take my eyes off the road for a second to look over to him and see a heartbreaking look of poorly-concealed pain on Gray's face.

"What'd he say?" I ask.

"Tommy and Violet were picking Gracie up from her sleepover," he says curtly, keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead. "Her first fucking sleepover."

I put my hand on his. "Why were they pick--"

Gray jerks his hand out from under mine. I flinch. "Can you just drive faster?" he snaps coldly, folding his arms across his chest. Pain ricochets through my chest and I want to say something but I just speed up. I don't know what to say to calm him down. I don't know what to say to calm myself down.

The silent ride seems to stretch on for hours but we finally arrive at the hospital. Getting out of the car and seeing the tall, imposing building makes this all become too real.

They're not that hurt. They don't belong in there. They can't be in there.

But they are.

The sterile white walls of the hospital hurt my eyes as we rush through the halls. The professionals, wearing clean scrubs and calm expressions, pass by us without a passing glance. I want to scream, to shake them and ask them how they can act so normal when our lives are falling apart right now.

But no one else cares. No one cares that one of them could even be...

I can't bear to even think about that possibility. That's not even an option.

When we find the room that Gracie's in, a nurse tries to stop us at the door. She presses her hand to Gray's chest calmly and says, "You may not want to see her like that right now. She's very frag--"

But Gray is already plowing through the door, not heeding the nurse's advice. Peyton stays out in the hall but I follow him in, not willing to let him endure this alone.

A doctor stands in the corner, typing something on his computer, but I don't focus on him. I doubt Gray even sees him there.

Neither of us knew what to expect but what we see in Gracie's room is much worse than we could have imagined. I choke back a saddened gasp when my eyes land on Gracie, and Gray stops in his tracks, bringing his hands to his face. Gray doesn't hold back the sob that seems to rip through his entire body.

Gracie's unconscious with purple dotting her soft face. Her eyes are swollen shut, and a terrifying stitch runs across her tiny forehead. My breath catches painfully as I take in the rest of her broken body.

Her right leg is raised in a large cast, making her look even smaller in the white bed. Gracie's arms, barely peeking out from her oversized hospital gown, are covered in deep red scratches.

She looks so tiny and broken. I can't hold the tears back any longer, and my face is wet with them in a matter of seconds. I watch as Gray falls to his knees at her bedside and takes her small hands in his larges ones. I can hear his deep sobs from where I'm standing.

He doesn't say anything, just holds the only part of her that isn't broken.

She just lies there, motionless. The doctor and I stay silent as can be, giving Gray a moment with his little sister. The room feels suffocatingly small, not nearly big enough for the pain and intensity occupying it.

"How long has she been like this?" Gray asks, hardening his voice as he speaks to the doctor.

The doctor types a few more words onto the computer and turns to him, taking on a look of sympathy as he takes in Gray's ragged appearance. His red-rimmed eyes, his messy hair, the broken look in his dark eyes. Looking at him triggers even more tears.

"She came in a little over an hour ago. When they brought her in, she was already unconscious," he explains. He folds his arms, staring at Gracie's pitiful state. "Grace has...extensive injuries. However, she was riding in the front seat on someone's lap. I must say that I'm very surprised that her injuries were only as severe as they are. We're keeping a close eye on her."

Gray and I both connect the dots, both visualizing little Gracie sitting on Violet's lap in the front seat of Gray's car as Tommy drove. A crash. A large airbag coming straight at her.

I break into even more sobs. None of them deserved any of this.

At Gray's request, the doctor starts listing off Gracie's long list of injuries. Fractured collarbone. Broken tibia. Fractured femur. Minor and major lacerations on her face and limbs. Fractured ribs. Concussion. More. And more.

The doctor leaves to give us time alone and tells us that a nurse will be in to check on her. Gray stands up, tugging at his hair and closing his eyes. He's moved past his initial state of sadness and shock, and his walls are back up. He straightens his back and crosses his arms, still staring at Gracie.

"Gray, she'll be ok--" But I'm interrupted by the door opening. Both our heads snap toward the person entering. Tommy.

He's wearing a sling on his right arm and his face is even more fucked up than Gracie's. But other than that, Tommy fared much better than Gracie. And seeing the look on his face, I can tell he's absolutely devastated by that fact.

Tommy holds his left arm up in surrender and guilt, stopping in the doorway. "Gray, the car came out of nowhere. I tried to swer--"

Gray takes two steps and punches him across his already-bruised face. Tommy's head snaps sickeningly to the side and he stumbles into the doorframe, but he makes no move to defend himself. He just holds the wall with his good hand and stares up at Gray. Blood pours from his nose, which is already looking painfully crooked.

Both are staring at each other, breathing heavily.

Gray walks up closer to Tommy, and I'm afraid he'll do worse. But he just looks Tommy in the eyes, and manages to growl, "You did this. You fucking did this to her." He points at Gracie but keeps his animalistic stare on Tommy's broken face. I'm fearful for both of them.

"Gray--" I start, but Tommy holds up his left hand, a silent assurance that he can handle this. My whole body feels weak with emotions, and I don't know if I can handle whatever is going to happen next.

But Tommy doesn't throw a returning punch; he just says, "I know this is a lot, Gray. Punch me, kick me, do whatever you need to cope with this fucked-up situation. I understand this is hard on you, brother."

His words make my mind spin but Gray doesn't accept the sentimentalities. He grabs the collar of Tommy's shirt and punches him again and again, unleashing his anger out on his best friend. His best friend that just said that Gray is like a brother to him. And Tommy just takes it. It's like that night at the race again, and Gray is losing his mind. Except this time, I'm watching my defenseless friend get beat up. And I'm the only other person in the room.

So I yell, closing the distance between us quickly.

The two of them are a terrifying flurry of fists and blood, and I'm scared out of my mind. But I fight to push my arms between them, making myself a barrier between them. "Stop! Fucking stop, Gray!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "Gray, get off him!"

I maneuver my body between them and dodge his flying punches. He doesn't stop, and I feel the pure rage vibrating from his taut body. I'm fighting a losing battle with no help from Tommy, and I'm afraid that Gray's too far gone, too caught up in his rage.

Then another force joins me in separating them, wedging their way between them and helping me to push Gray off of Tommy. Gray staggers back, a wild, unbothered look in his eyes. He doesn't even look at me, maintaining his murderous glare on Tommy.

After helping me break up the fight, Peyton grabs my shoulders and pulls me away from Gray, expressing her own fear of what he might do. Then Peyton leans over Tommy who is bleeding profusely but still standing. I, however, can't take my eyes off Gray, the tortured emotion wracking his entire body.

"Get out," he says harshly. "All of you. Now!"

Then he turns to Gracie again, holding her hand and watching over her small body. Peyton gives me one concerned glance then helps Tommy out of the room. I can't bring myself to follow. I can't leave him alone right now.

I'm choking back my sobs, watching Gray rest his head on his fists. He looks utterly defeated, lost.

"Leave," is all he says softly, and his cracked voice breaks my heart. I close the door softly behind me, trying to keep myself together and failing miserably.

Only Peyton is in the hallway, sitting with her back to the wall and her head in her hands. I slide down the wall slowly and rest my head on her shoulder.

"Gracie will be okay, right?" she asks, muffled. "She looked so fucking small in that bed, Riv. She's just a kid."

I want to cry into her shoulder and shut out the world, but I have to be strong for Peyton as she breaks down right now. With my arm wrapped around her shoulders, I assure her softly that it will all be alright. I speak with a confident voice, trying to keep Peyton from realizing that I'm not sure if Gracie will be alright.

I'm not sure about anything right now.

After a moment of calming her heaving sobs, I finally get Peyton to lift her head. She brushes her dark blonde hair from her face and rubs the mascara-ridden tears from her cheeks. The tip of her nose and the skin around her eyes are red. I move a lock of hair from off her lips, and she smiles at me.

I look around, realizing Tommy is nowhere to be found. "Where'd Tommy go?"

Peyton sniffs and gestures down the hall. "Against my protests, he stumbled his way to Violet's room. He probably left a trail of blood down the hallway. Do you wanna go find Vi's room?"

I nod my head and we help each other up off the ground. After asking around, we eventually find our way to Violet's room. We actually do spot a few drops of Tommy's blood on our journey there.

We open the door slowly and peek in. When the door opens fully, we see Violet laying on the bed with a heavily bruised face. Along with a cast on her right arm--just like Tommy's--, she's sporting a thick, white neckbrace, and her usually-sleek hair is splayed wildly, tangled across her pillow.

Tommy is sitting by her bed, holding her hand and saying something to her. Violet laughs at something he says, winces, then notices us. She holds up her left hand in a small wave.

"Hey whores. What's up?"