Twitter // Grant Gustin

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I rushed into the hospital room where Danielle was sitting on a chair watching Grant sleep. My heart broke, seeing him bruised and battered. His arm was in a sling and he had breathing tubes in his nose, not to mention the massive concussion he had to have.

"How is he?" I whispered, standing at the foot of his hospital bed.

"Not great, but alive," Danielle told me, walking up next to me.

"Was he drunk?" I asked, afraid to know the answer.

"No, his car slid off the road," Danielle said, "but the thing is that it was a perfect day out, no ice, rain, nothing. The roads had just newly been paved and his tires were in perfect condition, there's no way he could've slid off the road."

"I heard the doctors talking outside, they think he tried to kill himself," Danielle said, blankly, no emotion whatsoever.

"This is all my fault," I sighed, tears running down my face.

"How could this possibly be your fault?" Danielle ask, shocked by my accusation.

"The night he had crashed i told him i didn't love him anymore," i said completely breaking down in Danielle's arms.

"Oh, honey," Danielle sighed, stroking my hair as i cried.

"He can hear everything, I'm sure he'd love to hear from you," Danielle whispered.

"After two days of being in a coma, i doubt my voice could wake him up," I said, tears slowly streaming down my face.

"You don't have to wake him up, just talk to him," Danielle assured me, "I'll give you two some privacy."