next part, a little short and unfinished

He led her to a bench outside his café and gently lowers down. Her mind was reeling, had she really just had an out of body experience? Did she just get hit by a car? She felt disoriented. With unfocused eyes she looked up at the Frenchmen. She knew she ought to say something, but no words were coming. After staring at him for far too long in silence, she said dumbly said the first thing that came into her head.
“How did you know I spoke English?”
“What?” he replied with a confused look on his face. Clearly this is not what he thought her first words would be to him. Feeling guilty and ungrateful she tried to make up for her lapse in articulation.
“I mean thank you. You….” But she started to feel dizzy again. She started to sway on her seat and the Frenchmen reached out a hand to steady her.
She heard him say something in Italian and saw him point to the young women driver who had hit her. She came over, and he asked her a question in Italian; she nodded, still with tears streaming down her face.
“Good,” he said, “then help me get her into your car. She should probably go to a hospital.” The last thing she thought as he picked her up was that he clearly did not need any help moving her. She passed out in his arms as he lowered her into the backseat or the tearful women’s small car.
Her eyes opened to a very white, sterile scene. At first she was scared, forgetting what had happened, not knowing where she was. The white ceiling and walls scared her for some reason, their whiteness reminding her of a story she once read about a white room with no windows or doors. She looked to her left and saw a dark haired women sitting by her bedside, with a look of relief. Suddenly it all came back to her and she remembered the young women that had hit her with her car. The women smiled a huge white smile, her eyes no longer full of tears.
“Buon giorno, good morning.” She said in a small voice and heavy Italian accent. “You’re feeling ok I hope?”
“Yes, I feel alright. How long was I sleeping?” she suddenly felt very tired again, as if all the sleep she had did not count because it was medicated.
“The accident was yesterday evening, you slept here last night. Its morning now.” She said with a now guilty look on her face. “I am forever sorry I hit you. Not paying attention is what I was doing. It is my first car, I was too excited.” Her awkward sentences suggested that she had recently learned English, but after being so lonely the day before, the conversation was more than welcome.