The faint sound of the sirens wailed in the background of the rusty voicemail. The sound of footsteps echoing on the floor and the scratching of pen and paper filled my ears before the voicemail began to speak, and my mother's voice came through. She sounded rushed, panicked, tensed as she spoke to the phone. "There was a car accident while I was going to meet my friend. A car ran a red light and hit me, and I barely got out. I don't think I'm much hurt, but the ambulance is here. Please get to the emergency room as fast as you can and bring our daughter. Love you, I'll see you soon." A crackle of the policeman's radio ended the voicemail. Then, silence. I couldn't pay attention to the people chatting around me. Not even a single word. I knew my dad was there at the site just before she was loaded into the ambulance, for this voicemail was sent from right in front of our house, where she crashed, and when she was fresh out of her car. My dad might've been there, but I wasn't. As I replayed the voicemail, I reached out of my system to try to hear anything, but I was left dazed, replaying her words over and over again, only to find the sudden, heavy weight of fear pressing down on me. I quickly managed to snap out of the daydream and slowly gazed up at my dad. I stared at his lap, to his torso, to his shoulder, and finally, his face. The one I was afraid of.  
I wasn't scared that he would be mad. I was scared that he would feel bad for me, which would only make the feelings worse. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his careful style. He tried his best to give me his usual smile, but instead, it looked like a hungry lion smiling at its prey before feasting on it: not a very natural smile. The world of sounds slowly began to come back to life. Reality struck. I was already in the emergency room, with my dad, as my mom told us to, and was waiting for the doctor to lead us to her.  
After exchanging awkward glances back and forth for what felt like an eternity, my dad figured his best move would be to reach out and squeeze my shoulder. "She's alright", he said. "The ambulance crew is taking good care of her. When the doctor calls us in, you'll see that she's fine." He looked like he believed it. 
 I wondered if I could trust what he said when a figure in a white coat approached me. As the figure began to form, I realized it was the doctor. I was so nervous, I could feel my hands trembling.  
Without even realizing it, the words slipped out of my mouth before I could even think. 
"Is she okay? Is she stable? What happened? Are you sure she's okay?" 
The doctor chuckled as he answered, "Calm down, young lady. Your mother is stable. She hasn't woken up yet, but she is going to be okay." Then he added, "If you don't believe me, you can go see her." 
 I smiled at him. "Thank you." 
 
As the doctor walked us through the halls, I was shocked to see hundreds of other patients. Some of them were in stretchers, others in casts or wheelchairs. I wondered if my mom would look like that, too.  
I reassured myself; she's going to be fine. Even the doctor said so. I still had the lingering donut and was bracing for the worst as I prepared to see my mom. If her car had flipped completely upside down, she would be in worse condition than the other patients. If she somehow walked away unscathed, it would be nothing short of a miracle. 
 Before the doctor pushed away the barrier between me and my mom, he whispered to me, "I'll give you guys a moment." However, when he opened that door, my worst fears came true. 
 
I slowly stepped in, the sun from the windows shining in my eyes. I looked at my mom. She was lying there on the hospital bed, eyes closed, limp. She looked lifeless. Colorful wires trailed from her fingers, a stiff hospital brace supported her neck, and an oxygen mask covered her beautiful face.  
"I guess she's just as bad as I thought," I mumbled to my dad, keeping quiet because my voice was cracking.  
"I told you once, and I'll tell you again. She'll be fine, honey," my dad whispered back. A pit of helplessness twisted in my stomach. I needed to do something, anything, to help her. After everything she had done for me, seeing her like this was unbearable. She lay there, silent and unmoving, and I felt a sharp ache in my chest, wishing more than anything that she would just wake up. 
 
I walked over to a chair nearby and took a glimpse behind me. It looked as if my dad was urging me to go, to go closer to my mom. I sat down beside her. Suddenly, I also felt regret. I became more stressed as more random thoughts of "what ifs" rushed through my head. Should I have worn my watch to school? My dad could have called me to inform me about this earlier that way. Maybe I should have pretended I was sick so I could have been there to see her. Maybe... 
 
Then, I stopped. I closed my eyes and thought of that one time when I lost my dog a few months ago.  
I remembered myself in my room, crying, and my mom telling me, "Hey, instead of mourning in your room, let's go look for her. If you hold on to what already happened, it's not going to do anything." She had a smile on her face, one that I couldn't resist. I guess my mom had really wise words. 
 
I just looked at her and thought again. She was right. If I hold on to what already happened, it won't do anything. So that meant that I should make the best out of every situation, including this one. 
"Honey, go on. Tell her. All the things that are going on inside your head. You know she loves your voice." My dad consoled me. But he wasn't wrong. My mom loved every inch of me, including my voice, and I knew it. 
 
In the warm room, I could almost feel the heartbeat of my mom. 
 I let the words spill out of my mouth. "Mom, you have no idea how much I was worried. I really wanted to bring Nora (my dog) here, but I guess this place isn't pet friendly. Trust me, I was so confused. Like one second, I'm at home, and the next second, Dad's driving me to the ER. It's a lot for me, but I guess it's worse for you..." But for some reason, I stopped. Maybe it was my voice, maybe it was my heart, but it sure wouldn't let me continue. 
 I looked at my mom, and it looked like she was gradually coming back to life. Her pale skin tone grew color. She stirred a bit as if she had been cast by a magic spell to bring her back to life. She fidgeted from side to side before slowly opening 
 her eyes, then closing them. She was blinded by the bright light. Her pupils got used to the light, and I could finally take a good look at her. I could see the light shining on her. She looked beautiful once again. 
 My dad, on the other hand, was absolutely amazed. I could tell he didn't believe that she would be fine. He was astonished. Shocked. He had both his hands on his head, as if his mind had exploded.  
Once he realized what he was doing, he chuckled and said, "I guess it's the power of talking." 
 
My dad called in the doctors, and they were surprised as well.  
"We thought we would have to keep her in the hospital for a few weeks! We would have to get her blood and her heartbeat checked, making sure she's stable. But you... you made her recover by talking to her! Maybe I should try that sometime." The doctors told us. We laughed. "Well, we still need to make sure she's back in full condition, so we're going to have to run some tests." "Sounds good," my dad said. My mom did nothing but smile.  
As he checked her out of the hospital, I gripped her hand tight. When we walked out of those two doors, I felt a sense of relief. I never wanted to go inside there ever again.  
"Mom, I'm proud of you, but let's make one thing clear. NEVER AGAIN! I can't handle it!" I told her.  
"Don't worry, kiddo. It will never happen again," she laughed.