No reaction.
No sound.
Nothing.
My heart is slamming so hard I think he can hear it, but I don't move. I don't even breathe.
After a second, he steps out.
The door slams shut.
But the silence doesn't come.
Because I can still hear her.
Crying.
Soft, broken sounds that make my chest ache.
She's still alive.
But she's not okay.
She's never going to be okay.
And neither am I.
My chest rises unevenly as I stare at the ceiling, tears slipping into my hair. My hands are still shaking. My breath is still too fast.
Okay.
Okay.
Think.
The doctor.
He's scared.
He didn't want to be here.
That means something.
That means he could break.
And if he breaks—
That's my way out.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe through the pain, through the nausea, through the sound of that girl's broken sobs still echoing in my head.
"I'm getting out of here," I whisper to myself, my voice shaking.
"And I'm not leaving without Becca."
Not a fucking chance.
I don't care what it takes.
