I found myself staring at the figure who was laying beneath the hospital sheets through the blinds, my eyes struggling to focus on her, since her skin seemed to mesh with the color of the sheets. I found that it was worrying, because she had never been that pale. Not even when she had been here the first time. I just hoped and prayed that she was healing as well as the doctors had claimed that she was.
A week had passed since she had survived her suicidal rescue mission—a week in which I’ve practically lived in this hospital.
There weren’t many—if there had even been any—reasons why I had left the hospital. I would take a few hours a day to handle the pack matters and spend time with my family, before I came right back here and stared at her from this exact same place, never daring to
