I've been to hospitals many times.
Whenever kids at the orphanage got sick, when my best friend, Betty lost her leg, and even when my father died.
But I couldn't remember the sinking feeling in my chest as Louis was wheeled away. I could barely hear the sound of the doctor's barking orders over my heart pounding in my chest.
I wanted to follow them, to hold him and hope he could hear me — to tell him I loved him, even if it was going to be the last time. Yet, my legs refused to work and I stood, dazed in the middle of the wreckage.
My knees buckled but someone caught me, I turned and our lips brushed. Atlas moved to press a kiss to my hair, his arms tightening around me. I didn't stop him, I couldn't.
"He's going to be fine," Atlas promised.
I looked at him, my bottom lip quiver
