"Are you mad at me?" I let out through a very dry throat and a pounding headache.
Been out for God knew how long and that was the first thing I said and thought of; if he was mad at me or not.
"Just rest" dad said. He didn't look mad so that was a good sign.
I was still wearing the same clothes and it didn't feel like much time has passed.
I contemplated my surroundings: nothing short of a hospital room. I didn't have anything connected to me; no heart monitor or IV. Though my upper arm felt sore.
I sat up properly, my back a little sore too. From carrying the guy, I assumed.
The guy.
I had totally forgotten about him.
A glass of water was on the table next to me. I downed it with one gulp, earning a look from dad, who was no longer resting his chin on his fists.
Silence lingered
