DYLAN.
The room smelled like antiseptic and something else. Something colder, regret maybe. I sat in the creaky hospital chair that barely held my weight. But it didn't matter. None of that mattered. The only thing I could focus on was the girl lying motionless in the hospital bed in front of me–Amelia.
My Amelia.
She was so still. Too still. Her usually expressive face was pale, bruised, swollen. I couldn't even tell where some of the injuries ended and where her skin began. The machine beside her beeped in a steady rhythm, a cruel reminder that her heart was still fighting even if she looked like she'd already given up.
And I wasn't there, I wasn't f*****g there.
I clenched my fists and looked away, the guilt so heavy it made my chest ache. My throat burned from holding back te
