The voice on the other side isn’t Serena. It’s a deep male voice and there’s a slightly muted siren in the background. “Hello, David, this is Emergency Personnel, we’re trying to identify a woman who’s been hit by a car and was carrying this cell phone.”

My mouth goes dry and I nearly jump. “Christ, is she okay?”

“Please, sir, we’re trying to identify her, I can’t give you any details about her condition.”

“Her name’s Serena—Serena Ferrara. She goes to Coe College. She lives in one of the dorms on campus, she’s 21 years old.”

“Does she have any immediate family we can call?” Even at six in the morning, this question drops a brick into my stomach. Her father and mother disowned her our sophomore year; she came from a very religious family and living with me was a nightmare on their Little House on the Prairie family values. She hadn’t spoken to her mother the last time I asked, which was before the break up, so maybe they had forgiven her once she stopped living in sin. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like I knew their phone number and I doubt the Paramedics would be calling me if she had a number saved in there under ‘Mom’, ‘Dad’, or ‘Home’.

“No, not really.” I clear my throat. “We’re cousins, actually and I live in the Cedar Rapids area—is she going to be okay?”

The paramedic pauses before speaking again. “I really can’t talk about this over the phone—she’s unconscious—why don’t you just meet us at the St. John’s Hospital ER?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” The phone clicks off and I’m far too awake for this hour on a Sunday. I throw on my pants and run my hand through my hair before grabbing the keys and heading to the hospital.