The next time I wake up, it’s quieter. Dimmer. My head’s clearer but only just. I turn and see someone sitting in the chair beside my bed.
My dad.
For a second, I think he’s a hallucination. I blink again, harder.
“Dad?”
He leans forward like he’s been waiting hours. “Thank God. Sweetheart, are you alright? How do you feel?”
I sit up slowly, and he helps me, steady hands under my arms. I glance around, bare white walls, a stiff mattress, the distant sound of voices and rolling gurneys.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“We’re at the hospital,” he says gently. “I told your mom not to tell you until you were back home. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just didn’t want you to hear it like that.”
“Where’s Elena?”
Silence.
He looks at me, and his expression crumples. His shoulders tremble and
