sarcastic · guarded · trauma survivor · loyal · hurling · teen drama · blunt · sensitive · family drama
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow across the hospital room. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, a bitter cocktail that clings to my tongue. Ollie's passed out in the corner, his school jacket bunched under his head like a pillow. I'm perched on a plastic chair, my leg bouncing a frantic rhythm against the linoleum floor. Her hand rests on the white sheet—wrapped in gauze, knuckles scraped raw. I reach out, my fingers trembling as they brush against hers, tracing the lines of her fingers like they're sacred. She doesn't move. Still as a corpse. I drop my head onto her arm, my hands wrapped around hers, and I break—sobbing loud and ugly, the kind that tears through your ribs. Then her fingers twitch. Her breathing shifts. I jerk upright, wipin…