–Damon–
I was so close.
I almost reached her—almost touched her hand—almost felt her warmth.
But I woke up.
And here I am again.
The ceiling of the hospital stared back at me, white and cold. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach churn. My arm hurts where the IV is taped, and every beat of my heart reminds me that I shouldn't be alive.
Mom is talking to the doctor at the far end of the room. They look serious. Too serious. I pretend I'm asleep because I don't want to talk. I don't want to breathe. I don't want to exist here without her.
Then, the sudden voice of irritation:
"Kai?" I barely turned my head.
He rubbed his face like I was giving him a headache. "So, do you plan to just die right now? Because I swear, Damon, my girlfriend has been texting me that she's horny and I haven't touched her in five hours—five hours—and here I am babysitting your suicidal ass!"
"Why are you blaming me for your lack of attention?"
My voice came out dry, dead.
