I sat in the car while my dad talks to our neighbors. I felt incapable of doing anything other than staring straight ahead. My body won’t react to my head, and my head couldn’t form coherent thoughts. I managed to glance down at my phone and saw the hand clutching it was trembling. Jennie’s picture was still up, and I let my phone slip through my fingers and onto the floor in front of my seat.

I raised my hand to my mouth and let out a sob. That was how Dad found me when he came back to the car. He got in without saying anything, immediately slammed the door shut, and threw the car into reverse. Seconds later, we were speeding out of the neighborhood. I didn’t know where we were going. I couldn’t think.

“Lis, it’ll be okay...” he said to me, as though that was supposed to mean anything to me. I already knew it wouldn’t be okay. I known it wouldn’t be okay from the moment I met Jennie.

I found the strength to retrieve my phone somehow. I thought of Seunghoon oppa and sent him a message that I wouldn’t remember sending later. There were errors, but I’d meant to say “hospital”. I knew without Dad having to tell me that that was where we’d be going.

He let me know I was correct sometime later, while we were still on our way, though not directly. He called his girlfriend. His voice was shaking, but I picked out bits and pieces. “Accident.” “Headed to hospital.” “Only ten minutes ago.”

He hung up and took my hand in his. His palm was clammy, and he was trembling. I knew I was, too, but I couldn’t feel it. I felt like I was watching all of it happen to someone else. I no longer felt like throwing up because I could feel myself shutting down. I didn’t want to feel what I’d felt when I was seventeen again. I didn’t want to ever feel anything at all again. We parked near the emergency room at the hospital. Dad turned the keys and shut the car off, but left them in the ignition, he was so distracted. He hurried over to my side of the car and opened my door, then leaned over me to unbuckle my seatbelt when I didn’t move.

When I still didn’t get out of the car, he knelt next to me and took my hand again. “Lisa, look at me. She’ll be alright.”

I pressed my lips together and felt more tears come. I hadn’t realized I’d had any hope left at all until he confirmed right to my face that it was Jennie.

“I don’t want to go in,” I tried to say, but my mouth wouldn’t move. Dad kept urging me on, but he was speaking faster than my brain could process.

“Lisa, please baby,” he kept saying, until at last he gripped the car door and pressed his forehead to it, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Lisa, we have to be there.”

I recognized those words. I don’t want to go inside with Mom, either.

I wondered if he was thinking of her now. If this was even about the woman I love, or if he was just reliving losing the woman he loved. I turned and slipped out of the car, then stood on shaky legs. Dad collected himself and helped me walk across the parking lot. I’m not sure how I stayed up, but I did.

Jennie’s parents were alone in the lobby, clutching each other. I saw her father’s hands before I could look away and knew instinctively that this was the moment I’d see over and over again, every night when I closed my eyes. His hands were stained with dried blood. My stomach started working again and I stumbled to the nearest trash can to wretch for the second time. Dad was there, at my back, and then Jennie’s parents were looking at us, their cheeks stained with tears even worse than my own were.

“There’s no news yet,” was all her dad could muster up the energy to say. I was glad he seemed unable to spare us any more detail. I couldn’t know any more about what had happened. I didn’t want details. Ever.

We waited there for what felt like hours for good news I knew wouldn’t come. I thought of all the things I hadn’t done right. I wished I’d given her everything she’d wanted from the very beginning. I’d conquer every fear I had now just to see her smile.

A nurse came to take Jennie’s parents away to a different waiting room sometime later. I learned that Jennie was in surgery, then, and wished I hadn’t.

Hoony found us not long after that. He didn’t know what to say any more than my dad did. He sat beside me in one of the chairs, ran a hand through his hair, and then placed his face in his hands. Maybe later I’d just appreciate that he’d been there, but I didn’t then. Dad paced back and forth not far from us.

There were people in and out as we waited, but I didn’t look at any of them. I pulled my knees up to my chest, eventually, and pressed my face against them, closing my eyes and swallowing back more nausea.

I thought I’d be angrier at my