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I ended up in the hospital under intensive care. I wasn't expected to survive.

The staff was bewildered that our parents were dead, I had one foot in a grave, yet the smallest and weakest person in the car had walked away from the accident with only a few bumps and bruises. She explained that I had protected her during the crash and in doing so nearly killing myself.

She said it was ten or twenty minutes before a car came into view and saw our car and Pele outside waving for help. It was another ten minutes until an ambulance arrived on the scene.

I was unconscious during all of this. Waking up four days after the crash. Lying on a white bed . I could feel my body was heavily bandaged. I was hooked up to a ton of monitors, each emitting their own noise. There was a thin plastic tube under my nose, wich I knew was to help me breath but either way it was annoying. The right side of my face was completely covered up with bandaging to the point where my eye was also patched up. I felt incredibly heavy, a huge pressure pressing down on me. Not to mention as drugged as I don't know what.

I was pleasantly surprised to find Pele snuggled close to my left side, her head resting on my chest. I wanted to put both my arms around her but my right one was in a cast. I settled for just hugging her tightly with my bandaged left arm. Pele stirred from her sleep, sitting up blinking a few times to get me into focus. She smiled a huge watery smile, seeing I was awake.

"Oh Paul," she bent close, hugging me gently. I was so drugged, she could've jumped on my chest and I wouldn't have felt a thing. When she straightened up again I held her hand firmly in mine. Afraid of letting go of her for even a second. We felt the need to have physical contact with each other. To help one another through the grief of losing Mum and Dad.

"I'm surprised they let you on the bed," my voice was a weak croaky whisper.

She held my hand in both of hers "They didn't have a choice. After the surgery you weren't doing good. They let me in and I ran straight for you. When I held your hand like this, your monitors returned to a steadier rate".

She stroked my hand "They had to let me stay then. I was working better than most of the meds the gave you. You would call for me whenever I was away".

This is going to sound cruel but if I could go back in time and choose on who I could've saved, our parents or Pele. I wouldn't have done a single thing different. We would rather be with each other without our parents, than have to live out the rest of our lives without the other. In Pele's own words "It would be like taking my heart and expecting me to survive". My sister and I had a bond with each other that over rode any other.

Pele sang to me every morning and every night. At first the hospital staff thought the constant noise would disturb the other patient sharing my room.

He said he liked my sisters singing and told the nurse's to bug off. She sang softly into my ear most of the time but could still be over heard. Normally she would never sing aloud unless she was positive we were alone. Before any of this happened the only people who've ever heard her sing was me and our parents. When I asked what made her change her mind she responded by saying, I needed to hear her voice to get better.

In only four days Pele had earned herself a nickname. Angel.

The guy sharing our room was named Nemer Frammes. He was a friendly guy who was embarrassed to admit he'd landed himself in the hospital by falling down the stairs of his suburban home while reading a news paper. It was only a broken leg and a few cracked ribs, so he would be out in no time.

He was the head of a successful publishing company. His wife, Melissa came by to visit him every weekend. The four of us swiftly became close friends. We could talk about almost anything and everything with each other. The Frammes had that type of kind and open personality. The type that's easy to get close to.

Melissa even went out of her way to buy Pele some new clothes, so she didn't have to wear the ones the hospital had let her use anymore. She also enjoyed doing Pele's hair. Stating often she would love to have hair like hers.

About two months into my recovery I mentioned I loved to draw, wishing I had my art supplies from back home for something to do. Nemer was fully healed but he and his wife still came by to visit. On Melissa's next visit she brought me a present. Upon opening it half my face broke into a huge smile. Inside, lay a big sketch pad, a couple of pencils, and an eraser. I thanked her for the gift at least a dozen times. Next to Pele, this was the best gift I could receive. Pele held the sketch pad for me while I picked up one of the pencils.

"What are you today?".

She smiled, answering without hesitation, "An elf princess healing an angel".

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