Diana
I sat curled on the edge of the bed, refusing to move.
I was scared that if I did, in some sick, twisted turn of events, something would happen. Something so wrong would hurt him even more.
The paradox of the whole thing was that my being ever closer to him meant that he was weaker. It meant that he could die.
And yet, here I was, pretending like I didn’t want to hurt him.
My fingers lazily grazed Edric’s arm and I felt the warmth and his pulse…just to make sure he was still breathing.
Or to be sure it wasn’t.
I wasn’t sure I lived in a world that even made sense.
The minutes blurred into longer ones, and each ticking of the clock made me painstakingly aware of my role in this.
In the death of a man.
Eventually, sleep pulled me under its blankets. It wasn’t warm and fuzzy.
