Maxwell
Charlie’s stiff fingers curl around mine. I have to pry my hand out of hers in order for me to fetch a chair so I can sit beside her. Keeping my eyes on her lifeless body, my heart breaks as I cross the room to carry the bench to her bedside. I know she’s not dead, but seeing her like this is worse than I thought it would be.
I sit on that bench or pace the room for hours in the dark. My anxiousness makes my extremities fidgety in anticipation. All I can think of is how angry she’s going to be when she wakes up. Forcing myself to stay seated, I put my head in my hands in disappointment. The blame of this whole unfortunate situation rests on my shoulders. Waiting and patience are not my strong suits, which just makes this even more unbearable.
Vibrations from my phone run down th
