Heather froze the moment her eyes landed on him.
Alex was barely recognizable. Pale, smaller somehow. An IV snaked into the back of his tiny hand, the skin around it too thin. Plastic tubes lined his nostrils, delivering silent oxygen. Machines pulsed steadily beside him, their beeps measuring a life now balanced on digits and decimals.
Heather's breath caught.
He wasn't looking at her. His gaze floated—unfocused, distant, like he was halfway between this world and some other one.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Not his name, not even a whisper. Just a soundless ache.
The tears came too fast to stop this time. Her chest rose in one jerky inhale before she turned sharply and walked out, unable to stand the sight of him like that.
Outside the Room
She pressed a hand against the cold hallway wall, the other covering her mouth as sobs racked her body silently. Her sprained ankle trembled beneath her weight, but she didn't feel it, not really.
