Sora’s POV
A child who would quietly die in a corner. A child who needs twenty-four hour observation to stay alive.
For one second, I flinch.
In that second I tell myself.
Sora. You can't do this. Not this time. You've already lost once. You can't go through it again. If there's even one day in the next five years when you don't catch the smell of blood on him, that child is gone. You can't hold that kind of responsibility. You haven't even gotten back on your own feet.
In that second I'm about to open my mouth and tell the head nurse, I can't.
Then I finish my shift and go find Oliver.
He's still in that corner. Hands on his knees. Eyes pointed in that direction.
I crouch down.
I let him see my hand first.
I lift my hand. About to touch his head.
He lifts his small hand. Faste
