The hospital corridor seemed to me like the home ground base as far as I was concerned. Chase and I were shoulder-to-shoulder as our shoes clicked along the white-tiled floor. It was two weeks since Alessandro was shot and all this time Chase was worried, his guilty conscience tearing him apart.
With that thought in mind, it wasn’t difficult to become anxious, yet hopeful as we entered his room again. Trust that today is the day when we will see it. Hope that today one of us will return at least something of what we lost. Terror that we would come back to get him in the same state as we left him the previous day not moving in a coma that we could not penetrate.
Chase took my hand in his hand and gave it a firm grip as he led me into the room. Alessandro was, as usual, stretched on the
