Vanessa
It was hard to look at her and not blame myself. She had clearly been medicated, and I had heard the surgery had been much worse than what anyone initially said.
The machines around her told the story even when no one spoke it aloud. The steady beeping, the tubes, the quiet hum of equipment—enough to make it obvious that, even if she looked stable, she was still in pain. Not the kind that shows easily, but the kind that lingers underneath everything.
And I was annoyed at myself. For shouting earlier. For raging when all I should have done was sit here and keep her company.
But could anyone really blame me for trying to stop her from getting herself killed?
She had gotten away this time. That much was clear. But what about the next time?
What if she wasn't so lucky again?
What if something happened to her here, in a place that was supposed to be safe?
The thought made my chest tighten in a way I didn't like.
