Rover.

I have to be losing my god damn mind. She's not there. Her profile doesn't exist. She's nowhere.

"Good morning," Avery pokes her head into my room.

"Hi," I say plainly.

"Came to see how you're doing," she says.

"Better," I lie.

She sits down on the chair beside me before she speaks. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. You clearly knew something wasn't right. I shouldn't have forced you to get back to work."

"Thanks," I say, not meeting her gaze. "I think I just need a few days before I can start thinking about going back on tour."

"No worries," she agrees, "your record label said to take as much time as you need."

She gets up to leave, but I add, "What about the media? Maybe I should write them a statement."

"I'm sure your fans would appreciate it," she gives me a small grin before exiting.

It's the least I could do.

"Where's Isla?" I ask my mom.

"At the hotel with your father," she replies. "We thought we would give you a couple of days before she comes running in."

"How's she doing?"

"Good," she nods. "She cried when we told her that you woke up."

"Dramatic," I say, "as always."

"She gets it from you," she chuckles.

She's reading a magazine but puts it down which gets my attention.

"Olivia said you were calling out for Noah when you woke up?" she questions. "Who's Noah?"

"She's... She's someone special," I tell her, "but I can't seem to find her."

"Did you meet this girl at a bar? Cause you know there are plenty more girls at other bars," she snickers.

"No. Mom," I try to correct her.

"I'm just saying," she shrugs.

She clearly isn't seeing this the same way that I am.

I think of how to tell her. How do I tell her?

I finally muster up the courage, "I think I love her."

"Well," her eyes go wide, "I wasn't expecting that."

"She's adorable," I smile, "like in a funny way. And so creative. She's an artist. And she showed me what it's like to really dream."

"It sounds like she makes you happy," she says.

"She does," I reply.

It's nice to see my mom for the first time in a long time, yet I can't stand being in this room. But, Noah. I want to show her the world. I want her to be here.

"How long are they going to keep me?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," my mom shakes her head. "The doctors did say they wanted to run some more tests. They're honestly kind of baffled that you're doing so well. They said it would be a miracle if you came out of this the way you did."

"Guess I'm lucky," I say.

"I was starting to get concerned," she confesses. I can see her try to hold her emotions back, "I was scared we would be..."

"Mom," I move to be able to hug her, "you know I love you no matter what, wherever I may be."

"I know, sweetheart," she holds me tighter, "I love you too."

I'm being poked and prodded almost every hour on the hour. Blood sample, vitals check. It seems to never end.

"Well," the doctor says, "everything looks good for now. We're going to keep observing you for a while, make sure you don't relapse into that coma."

They keep calling it a coma, but I was merely asleep. I know it, I chose to stay that way. They won't find anything no matter what test they decide to do on me. My brain is fine, I can walk - even if they don't want me to - wherever I want and I also have an opinion which no one wants to acknowledge at the moment. I get that they want to be careful, but I can't stay here forever if there's nothing wrong with me. And Noah, I know she's waiting for me, but if I have to wait for her, I'll do it.

"We're going to have a physical therapist come see you in a bit," the doctor continues.

"Thanks," I say.

"Yep, just like that," Fabia, my physical therapist, says as she measures the amount of movement I'm able to do. "You're doing great."

Of course, I ask her the one question I want someone to answer for me, "Do you think they'll release me soon?"

"That's not for me to decide," she replies, "but on the down low, maybe a week."

"Good to know," I reply.

"You sound like you have somewhere to be," she tells me.

"Back on tour," I keep lying.

Shit, at this point lying feels like the only thing I can actually do. I can't wait! The tour has been so much fun! Fuck the tour.

What kind of life am I living if all I can think about is not doing the one thing I seem to have a natural talent for? Well, that's what my mom calls it. Just because I can pick up a damn instrument and make some sort of noise that sounds like a melody doesn't mean that I should be seen as someone more than I am.

"You think a lot, don't you?" Fabia questions me.

I give her the fakest smile I can muster, "Can't stop."

I feel like she can see right through me.

"You've been through so much, maybe you should talk to someone about it," she says.

"I'm fine," I politely tell her.

"It wouldn't be a problem for me to-"

"Really," I repeat calmly, "I"m fine."

"Okay," she nods.

I am fine. At least I will be when I'm out of here and on my way to Canada. 

All the seconds we're apart my heart grows sick and I fear that I'll never be able to do anything with my life. Everyone strives for independence, but I don't believe I can do it without her. I don't care where we end up just as long as we're together.

I need to know which bastard creator pulled us away from each other, cause this is not a game.