The Story of True Love

MIKE’S POV The motorbike vibrates beneath us, a growling beast eating up the midnight road. Davina’s arms lock around my waist, her cheek pressed against my back. Davina:“Slow down,” she shouts over the wind. I twist the throttle harder. Let her be scared. Let her hold me tighter. Davina’s laugh pierces my helmet. Davina:“You’re insane, Thompson!” Insane. The word lingers. Maybe she’s right. Her nails dig into my ribs as we swerve past a truck. Davina:“MIKE—!” Red taillights blur. A horn blares. Metal-scream. I’m airborne. Davina’s scream cuts short. (Moments Before Impact) DAVINA'S POV His heart thuds against my palm. Fast. Erratic. Like he’s running from something. Davina:“Babe, seriously—slow down!” He doesn’t. The streetlights smear into golden streaks. My mind: He’s been like this since his mom… Headlights flood my vision. Mike’s back tenses. I squeeze my eyes shut. Metal-scream. (Crash Site – 12:14 AM) PARAMEDIC’S POV Male: Early 20s, helmet cracked, left femur fractured. Female: No helmet. Skull impact. Pupils fixed. “We’re losing her!” The boy claws at the pavement, fingers bleeding. Mike:“DAVI—!” I pin his shoulders. “Sir, STOP MOVING!” He vomits. Pumpkin spice and blood. (ER – 3:00 AM) MIKE’S POV Mike Dad's: (Dad’s tie is crooked) “The girl… she didn’t make it.” The heart monitor shrieks. Nurses rush in. My mind: I killed her. I killed her. (Hospital Chapel – 6:00 AM) DAVINA’S MOM POV The boy kneels at my daughter’s casket, leg cast dragging. Davina's Mom: (I grab his collar) “Look at her. Look.” Davina’s hair is curled. Like prom night. Mike: “I’m s-sorry—” Davina's Mom:“You don’t get to speak.” (Slap) (Hospital – Discharge Day) PHYSICIAN’S POV (Hospital – Discharge Day) Patient: Michael Thompson, age 21. Injuries: Fractured femur (healing), lacerations (stitched), concussion (resolved). Psychological Note: Refuses trauma counseling. Insomnia. (One Week Later – Davina’s Funeral) MIKE’S POV Her mom slaps the roses from my hands. Davina's Mom:“Get out.” The coffin lid stays shut. They couldn’t fix her face. While crying, I go outside and enter Dad’s car, then drive home. THREE MONTHS LATER I’m fully healed. To forget the past, Dad decides to move to LA and transfer me to Los Angeles University (LAU).