CORBIN’S POV
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There was nothing and everything written on her face at the same time. Azalea’s face is a blank canvas, her eyes void of any emotion, the usual electrifying storm that has her eyes shooting like lightning is now dull, a boring dark gray with no hope, no life, and if it weren’t for her breathing, I would have thought that she's dead. I don't know if she can ever hear me. She isn't reacting, she isn't blinking, and the dark circles forming under her eyes is a clear sign of not sleeping.
I'm surprised when her mother let me in, but sitting here now, it seems like her mother might have given up, and now it's my turn.
I wish that I could slip into her mind, read her thoughts and invade them like my own, to rearrange whatever the hell is going on inside there, and to fix her.
