Brandon's POV
The fluorescent lights above the waiting area of St. Augustine Memorial Hospital hummed softly, an endless mechanical buzz that blended into the background until it became impossible to tell where it stopped and my thoughts began.
I had been sitting on the same plastic chair for nearly two hours.
It molded itself awkwardly to my body, as if it were designed for waiting but not for comfort. My elbows rested on my knees, my hands clasped together so tightly my knuckles ached. Every now and then I loosened my grip, flexed my fingers, then clenched them again—like I was afraid that if I stopped holding on, something in me would spill apart.
The emergency room never slept.
