Wandering anxiously through the corridors of the pack infirmary, my fear intensified after George's heroic act that landed him in the hospital. He shielded me from a potential gunshot, a sacrifice that left me questioning its necessity.
Attempting to offer reassurance, Karen chimed in, "I'm pretty sure he's going to be fine," but her words failed to ease the turmoil within me, leaving me at a loss for a suitable response.
Karen continued, seemingly unfazed, "It’s nice, you know. Having someone that could die for you. It's a good feeling." Her perspective halted my pacing, and I regarded her with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.
"What’s nice about it? Do you know the guilt that I'm feeling right now, Karen? I don't even know him that much, so why should he die for me?" I queried,
