Almost Gone

Kory’s legs felt heavier than usual as she trudged down the narrow, winding road leading from the small countryside hospital where she volunteered. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the dirt path, but the warm light did little to soothe the constant ache in her head. For over a week now, the migraines had been relentless, pounding at her skull with unrelenting force. She pressed her fingers to her temples, willing the pain to subside, though deep down, she knew it wouldn’t.

Her tote bag, filled with groceries from the town market, swung lightly at her side. The hospital shifts were often long, and today had been no different. Still, volunteering gave her days, meaning filling the gaps between freelance writing gigs. The fresh countryside air and sense of community in this small town had been a reprieve from her once frantic city life.

As Kory neared the main road, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on the side of the street—a frail old man with threadbare clothes and a worn-out cap placed at his feet. He was a regular around these parts, and though he rarely asked for anything, Kory often shared what she could. Today, her heart softened as she watched him, huddled against the wall, his thin arms wrapped around himself for warmth.

She slowed her pace, reaching into her tote for the sandwich she had just bought at the bakery. Without hesitation, she crouched beside him and held it out.

“Here,” she said softly. “It’s still fresh.”

The old man’s weary eyes lifted to meet hers. His smile, faint but genuine, tugged at the corners of his cracked lips. “Bless you, miss. Always too kind.”

Kory returned his smile, though her migraine flared once again, making her wince. “Take care of yourself,” she said gently, standing up and adjusting her bag as she prepared to continue on her way.

The road ahead bustled with the typical late-afternoon traffic. Cars whizzed by, kicking up small clouds of dust in their wake. Kory’s mind drifted back to the patients she had tended to that day to the familiar hum of the hospital’s routine. She often found herself lost in these thoughts, using the familiar chaos to distract herself from the throbbing pain that had taken residence in her head.

But today, she was distracted for a different reason. As she waited for the light to change, a sudden jolt from behind sent her stumbling off the curb.

Someone had bumped into her—hard.

Before Kory could steady herself, her foot slipped, and she found herself falling forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to catch her balance. Time seemed to stretch out, her vision blurring as she hurtled toward the busy street.

A loud horn blared. Kory's heart stopped as she realized a car was barreling straight toward her, tires screeching as the driver slammed on the brakes. Panic surged through her as the sleek black vehicle skidded out of control, swerving wildly to avoid her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

With a deafening crash, the car veered off course, flipping onto its roof. The sound of metal grinding against asphalt, the shattering of glass—it was all too much. Kory lay frozen on the ground, her mind racing as the chaotic scene unfolded before her. Her chest heaved, adrenaline surging through her veins as the reality of what had just happened hit her like a ton of bricks.

I could have died.

For a long moment, she couldn’t move. Her limbs felt leaden, and the world around her spun. People began to gather, their voices a distant hum in her ringing ears. Slowly, Kory pushed herself up, her hands trembling as she got to her feet. The scene before her was a wreck—an overturned car, glass littering the road, and a pool of blood trickling from one of the shattered windows.

Her stomach churned.

Without a second thought, she rushed toward the wreckage. The driver’s side window was completely shattered, and inside, she saw a man—no older than his late twenties—slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. His face was covered in blood, and his chest barely rose with each shallow breath.

"Help! We need to get him out!" Kory’s voice cracked as she called for help.

Several bystanders rushed to her side. Together, they carefully pried the mangled door open, pulling the man from the car and laying him on the ground. Kory’s training kicked in as she checked his pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief washed over her, but only briefly—there was still someone else in the car.

In the backseat, Kory spotted a small car seat strapped tightly in place. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the tiny, unmoving figure inside—a little girl, barely more than two years old.

"Oh no…"

Her hands shook as she unbuckled the straps, carefully lifting the child from the wreckage. The girl’s eyes were closed, her head resting limply against Kory’s shoulder as she cradled her.

“She’s just unconscious,” Kory murmured to herself, trying to keep calm. “Just unconscious…”

A man from the crowd helped her as she laid the girl down on a soft blanket someone had brought. Kory checked her over, her heart pounding. Apart from a small bruise on her forehead, the child appeared unharmed.

Moments later, the distant wail of sirens filled the air. Help was on the way, and Kory felt her entire body sag with relief. But the lingering unease in her chest remained as the paramedics arrived, taking over the scene. As they loaded the man and his daughter into the ambulance, Kory felt a strange tug in her heart. There was something about that little girl—something that made her feel responsible.

"Ma’am, are you all right?" A paramedic asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Kory blinked, realizing she was still standing in the middle of the street, her head pounding with the force of a renewed migraine. “Y-Yeah,” she stammered, her voice distant. “I’m fine.”

"You should head home and rest," the paramedic suggested, concern etched into his expression. "You've been through quite a shock."

Kory nodded, but as she walked away, her mind remained on the man and his little girl. The image of her small, peaceful face as she slept tugged at something deep inside her.

As she made her way back to her quiet little cottage, the migraine throbbed with a renewed vengeance. The two days off the hospital had given her didn’t feel like enough—something about today’s events felt like a tipping point. A shift she wasn’t ready for.

And yet, Kory couldn’t shake the feeling that her life had just changed forever.

Voices in the Quiet

The next morning, Kory woke up to the dull ache of her migraine still pulsing behind her eyes. She groaned softly, rolling over in bed and pulling the blanket over her head as if that would shield her from the world’s demands. The events of the previous day played on a loop in her mind—the near miss, the car crash, and the image of that little girl, Lila, unconscious in her arms.

Forcing herself to sit up, Kory rubbed her temples. The hospital had insisted on giving her two days off after the accident, but she wasn’t sure how restful they would be, especially with the strange heaviness that lingered in her chest. She couldn’t stop thinking about Adrian, the man who had almost hit her, and Lila, now probably alone in the hospital without anyone to comfort her.

I wonder how they’re doing, she thought, glancing at her phone on the nightstand. The hospital was only a few miles away, and it wouldn’t be hard to call for an update.

No, she told herself. She needed to rest, to recover. The doctors and nurses were more than capable of looking after them. Still, the nagging sense of responsibility gnawed at her. She had pulled them from the wreckage, had seen them at their most vulnerable. How could she not care?

By the time Kory managed to get dressed and brew herself a cup of tea, the headache had settled into a manageable throb. She stood by the kitchen window, watching the trees sway gently in the breeze, and tried to lose herself in the quiet of the countryside. The peace of her small cottage usually helped, but not today. Her mind kept drifting back to Lila’s tiny face and Adrian’s bloodied, unconscious body.

Unable to shake the urge, Kory decided to walk to the nearby pharmacy to get something stronger for her headache. She pulled on her jacket and grabbed her keys, hoping the walk would also clear her head.

The little pharmacy was nestled on the edge of town, its brick facade welcoming and familiar. The bell above the door jingled as Kory stepped inside, the cool air immediately soothing against her flushed skin. The pharmacist, a young man with messy brown hair and an easy smile, waved at her from behind the counter.

“Hey, Kory,” he greeted her warmly. “You need something for that migraine?”

Kory managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, it’s been killing me for days.”

“Let me get you something stronger,” he said, disappearing behind a shelf. She waited by the counter, rubbing her temples again as she glanced around the small shop. It was quiet this time of day, with only one other customer browsing the shelves.

As the pharmacist returned and rang up her medication, Kory heard him mumble under his breath, “She’s really pretty. Should I ask her out? Nah, she’s probably not interested.”

Kory blinked, momentarily confused. Had he really just said that out loud?

She glanced at him, waiting for some sign of embarrassment, but he just continued bagging her medication, completely unaware of what he’d just said. Confusion swept over her, but she shook it off. Maybe her migraine was playing tricks on her.

Still, something compelled her to respond. “I’m… not interested, by the way,” she said gently.

The pharmacist’s head shot up, eyes wide with shock. “What? I—wait, did I say that out loud?”

“You, uh… mumbled it,” Kory replied, her voice a little uncertain now. “Didn’t you?”

“No,” he said slowly, looking at her as though she had just sprouted a second head. “I didn’t say anything out loud.”

Kory felt a shiver run down her spine. “Oh,” she muttered, grabbing the bag from the counter. “Right. Sorry, I must’ve misheard.”

The pharmacist gave her a nervous smile, clearly unsettled. “It’s fine. Have a good day, Kory.”

She muttered a quick “thanks” and hurried out of the store, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something very strange had just happened. She was certain she had heard his thoughts—clear as day, as if he had spoken them aloud.

As she made her way down the sidewalk, the voices came again, but this time from passersby.

A woman walking her dog glanced in Kory’s direction, and suddenly, Kory heard her voice—Where did I leave my keys? Did I drop them at the park? Ugh, I hate when I do this.

Kory stopped in her tracks, eyes widening. She hadn’t said a word. No one had. But the thoughts, that inner voice, had been as real as any spoken sentence. She turned to look at the woman, who was now distracted, rummaging through her bag. Kory’s hands trembled.

This can’t be happening, she thought. But as she continued walking, the voices followed. Random snippets of conversations people were having in their minds, echoing inside her own head.

I forgot to lock the door… I hope they don’t see that I’m late… Did I leave the stove on?

Kory pressed her hands to her ears, hoping to block out the noise, but it made no difference. The voices—thoughts—kept coming. She quickened her pace, her mind racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. She was reading people’s thoughts. Somehow, someway, she was hearing what they weren’t saying aloud.

She rushed back home, her heart pounding in her chest. The moment she shut the door behind her, the silence was deafening. No voices, no thoughts. Just the sound of her own shallow breathing.

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t possibly be… mind reading. Could she?

For the rest of the day, Kory tested the theory, cautiously venturing outside again and listening to the flood of thoughts that came her way. She walked past people in the park, in the grocery store, even the mailman who dropped off letters at her door. Each time, their thoughts were clear as a bell in her head. She hadn’t imagined it. This was real.

Two days passed, and though the migraine had finally dulled, her newfound ability left her restless. Kory found herself pacing her living room, replaying the moments over and over again. How had this happened? Was it triggered by the accident? By stress?

The second day of her leave ended, and the reality of her situation sank in. Kory could now read minds. And, as bizarre as it was, she was going to have to live with it.

Her migraine gone but her mind still reeling, Kory returned to the hospital on her next shift. Despite everything, one thought occupied her mind more than any other—Adrian and Lila. She had to know how they were doing.

As she arrived at the hospital, she found herself drawn to Adrian’s room. She stood at the door for a moment, gathering her courage, before stepping inside. Lila was sound asleep in a small bed beside him, her tiny form curled up under the blankets. Kory’s heart ached at the sight—such a small child with no one in the world but an unconscious father who might never wake up.

She moved closer to Adrian’s bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was handsome, even with the bandages covering parts of his face, and for a moment, she felt a pang of sadness. Would he ever wake up? And if he didn’t, what would happen to Lila?

As Kory reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, a sudden voice filled her head.

I’m so worried about Lila. What’s going to happen to her if I can’t wake up? I don’t want her to end up in the foster system. I wish I could protect her…

Kory gasped, stepping back from the bed. It was him. She was hearing Adrian’s thoughts—just like she had with the others. But unlike the random thoughts she’d picked up from strangers, this was raw, filled with emotion and fear. He was still in there, still conscious in some way.

Without thinking, Kory whispered, “I’ll take care of her.”

The voice went silent. She didn’t know if Adrian had heard her, if he even knew what was happening, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t abandon this little girl.

Motherhood (Kind Of)

Kory spent the rest of her shift feeling like she was in a daze, Adrian’s worried thoughts still echoing in her mind. The fact that she could hear him, even though he was in a coma, was enough to send her spiraling. What kind of weird cosmic joke was this? She’d always had bad luck, but now she had a superpower? A very inconvenient superpower, at that.

By the time her shift ended, she felt like her brain had run a marathon. The strange thing was, despite the chaos in her head, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lila. The poor girl had no family here, no one to turn to. How long could she just stay in the hospital?

Kory had never exactly seen herself as a mother. Heck, she had trouble keeping a houseplant alive. But as she looked at Lila’s sleeping form, something shifted in her. That little girl needed someone, and if Adrian didn’t wake up, Kory realized with a start, she might be that someone.

The next day, Kory found herself in a strange new position: at social services, filling out paperwork. Apparently, being a mind-reader didn’t help you skip bureaucratic procedures.

"So, you're interested in being Lila Rivers' temporary guardian?" the social worker, a stern woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose, asked.

Kory gulped, nodding. Why did I say I would do this? She could still hear Adrian’s voice, the worry for his daughter, and that had been enough to push her into action. But now that she was sitting there with forms in front of her, it suddenly felt very real.

The social worker eyed her skeptically. “You don’t have any experience with children, do you?”

Kory hesitated. “Does… babysitting my neighbor’s goldfish count?”

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, no, I don’t have experience,” Kory admitted, “but I’m really great with people! And Lila’s only two, right? How hard can it be to handle a two-year-old?”

There was a moment of silence before the social worker chuckled—a sound that was more ominous than comforting. “You’ve never spent time with a toddler, have you?”

Kory blinked. “I… uh, no?”

The social worker handed her a packet of papers with an amused smile. “Good luck.”

---

Later that day, Kory found herself back at the hospital, nervously clutching the papers that gave her temporary custody of Lila. She had never been more terrified in her life. What if she hates me? What if I accidentally feed her something she’s allergic to? What if I lose her in a grocery store?

Her thoughts were spiraling as she stood outside Adrian’s room, the hospital lights flickering softly above her. She had never done anything like this before. Caring for another human being was a huge responsibility, and she didn’t even know where to begin.

Kory peeked inside the room and saw Lila sitting on her little hospital bed, hugging a stuffed bunny and watching some cartoons. She was so tiny, with curly brown hair and big, bright eyes that made Kory’s heart squeeze. Lila looked over at her, curiosity lighting up her face.

“Hi,” Kory said softly as she stepped inside, forcing a smile. “I’m Kory. Do you… remember me?”

Lila stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. “You saved Daddy.”

Kory’s heart clenched. “Yeah… I did. And I’m going to help take care of you for a little while, okay? Just until your daddy wakes up.”

The little girl blinked at her, processing the information, before breaking into a grin. “Okay.”

That was it. Just okay. Kory was stunned. No tantrum, no crying. She could do this. She could handle one little kid, right?

---

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

Later that evening, Kory was standing in the middle of her living room, holding a spoon, covered in applesauce, and watching in horror as Lila zoomed around her apartment like a tiny tornado. The toddler had gone from sweet and quiet in the hospital to a ball of endless energy the moment they’d left.

“Lila, please, sit down! It’s dinner time!” Kory begged, waving the spoon like a white flag of surrender.

Lila giggled and ran around the couch, her little feet stomping loudly. “Can’t catch me!”

Kory sighed, sitting down on the floor and rubbing her temples. “What have I gotten myself into?”

She heard a faint laugh in her head. You're doing just fine.

Kory froze, her eyes widening. Adrian’s voice. Was he laughing at her?

“Oh, easy for you to say!” she muttered, glancing in the direction of her bedroom where she’d set up the baby monitor linked to Lila’s room. “You’re not the one covered in applesauce!”

The voice in her head chuckled again. You’ll figure it out.

Kory let out a groan. “Great. Now I’ve got parenting advice from a man in a coma.”

But, strangely enough, hearing Adrian’s voice calmed her down. He trusted her. And even though this was all completely overwhelming, she couldn’t help but feel… capable. Maybe she didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but she wasn’t alone in this.

Later that night, after what felt like an eternity of chaos, Kory finally managed to get Lila into bed. The apartment was eerily quiet now, and Kory sat on the edge of the couch, completely drained. She stared at the ceiling, wondering how parents did this every day without losing their minds.

“Note to self,” she mumbled, “get more applesauce and buy every parenting book in existence.”

As Kory lay back on the couch, exhaustion creeping in, Adrian’s voice appeared once more in her mind. Thank you for taking care of her.

She smiled softly, closing her eyes. “You’d better wake up soon, Adrian,” she whispered. “Because this parenting thing? It’s no joke.”

But even as she said it, there was a small part of her—a part she didn’t fully understand—that didn’t want to let go of the bond they were forming.

And as Lila slept peacefully down the hall, Kory wondered what the future would hold for the three of them.