NATALIA
The days blurred past after Wesley walked out of the hospital room. I lay in my bed at home most of the time, staring at the ceiling or at the wall. My arm still hurt from the bullet wound, but the real pain was deeper, pricking me in my chest till breathing became unbearable.
I kept replaying the moment he left. The way his face had gone pale, the shock in his eyes, the way he whispered he was sorry before disappearing through the door. Every time I thought about it, fresh tears came. I felt like my soul had been ripped out and nothing felt right anymore. The world outside my window continued but I stayed stuck in that moment.
My father tried his best to cheer me up. He came to my room every morning with breakfast and he always brought my favorite fruits and warm tea. He sat o
