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I focus on the wall ahead before closing my eyes. The real world is too painful. There was no pain in my deep sleep. No pain where I came from.
I want to go back. I want to go backnow.
And see my guardian angel again.
I fall in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. All I know is that every time I open my eyes, I wish to close them again to dream of chocolate brown eyes.
Nightmares bury me deep within. Of the crash. Of Harvey’s voice when he screamed my name. It all plays back on repeat.
Over and over.
Until someone wakes me up and drugs me again.
I don’t complain—ignorance is bliss.
Sometimes I meet my guardian angel in my dreams again. He gets closer and closer to me, but his beautiful face remains a blur.
Why can’t I fully remember him?
When I wake, I find Henrik holding my hand, sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed. My throat feels dry still, but through the stiffness and the weakness, I’m a tad better.
My family doesn’t need to tell me anything—I know. My sister’s eyes are bloodshot red, and so are my dad’s. If I have a concussion, broken ribs and several bruises, as the doctor told me, it’s not much to fuss over.
“Hey. . .” Henrik greets me, a warm smile on his tanned face. He’s been crying too. I can smell the weed on him like his own perfume brand. He hands me water, and I chug down half the glass with a straw.
“My parents were here earlier while you were asleep. . .”
“Harvey?”
He squeezes my hand before I process his words. “He’s been out of surgery for a day now. He’s in and out of it—like you.”
I clear my throat. “You’re lying. Don’t lie to me, Hen. Everyone needs tostoplying.” My voice is small, barely a whisper.
“It’s the truth,” he says simply, avoiding my gaze. “Once you feel better you can go see him.”
“Idofeel better.”
He raises his brow and nods after a beat. “We’ll talk to the doctor.”
As if I need anyone’s permission to see Harvey. I’ve been kept away from him long enough.
“Anyway. . .” he removes a pack of cards from his back pocket and shuffles the deck around. “Let’s play a bit.”
It’s the last thing I want to do. But I’m beat, and I don’t want to argue with Hen. We play a round and he talks and talks, letting me revel in my own silence.
Not long after, my dad and Gia come into the room with subs and drinks.
“We got food!” Gia sounds chipper.
“Henrik.” My dad eyes him with a strange stare before his soft green eyes settle on me. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Good is good.” Gia places the food tray in front of me, telling me to dig in.
I do.
I’m starving and I need my energy to help Harv heal too.
