Ever since I was a child, I have hated the air in hospital rooms. There was a very certain scent in them all the time, a mixture of some antiseptic along with floor cleaners. In a weird way, you could smell the injections in that air, and as I entered Natasha's room, that smell hit me right in the face. It almost made me want to puke, but I wasn't sure if that was the smell or the condition in which she lay ahead of me.
So still.
The wounds on her face were bandaged, one on her forehead covered with minute stitches, and I knew that was going to leave a mark.
A bandage on her left arm, and I could see fresh blood stains on the white wrap up as I wondered how she hurt herself there and why I didn't notice it earlier.
Thankfully, there was nothing except that. The baby was safe. I wondere
