Nina
The room is too quiet except for Griffin’s shallow breaths. Each one is a tiny lifeline I cling to. The doctor left hours ago with his grim verdict. “It’s up to him now,” he said, like that’s supposed to mean anything. Like that’s supposed to bring me peace.
But at least Griffin’s breathing. That’s all I have to hold on to.
I’m sitting on the chair beside his bed, my elbows resting on my knees, my hands pressed together like I’m praying. Maybe I am. I don’t know anymore.
“Griffin,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You don’t get to leave. You hear me? Not like this.”
I lean closer, studying his face. He looks... peaceful. Too peaceful. It’s unsettling. Griffin’s always been so full of life, so loud and wild. He’s the brother who used to chase Lucas and me through the woods, daring u
