The room was still. Too quiet.


The kind of silence that made the machines sound louder, the IV drip louder, the faint beeping of a heart monitor more aggressively loud. Nathan hated hospitals. They reeked of bleach and guilt one couldn’t scrub off.


But he didn’t move.


His hand was wrapped around hers. Rachel’s. 


Her pale fingers were tangled with his. She was so still. Her face was bruised and the bandage on her shoulder which was angry red against her skin. Seeing her like this so helpless and quiet dug a knife right through the center of his chest.


He should’ve been there.


He should’ve never have walked out...