Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Even though I tried to fight them back, blood-soaked memories flooded my vision as I walked Frida as the unyielding humidity started to make my shirt stick to me in under five minutes.
I was slick with sweat and moisture from the air by the time a panting Frida and I made it back to our apartment where she promptly plopped down in front of the air conditioning vent as I prepared her breakfast, then took myself into the bathroom for a cool shower.
After, I French braided my hair down each side behind my ears, wanting it out of the way if it was going to be one of those ultra-sticky days.
Because I had no choice.
I had to go out.
I had to go check on Kylo.
My stomach wasn’t going to unclench until I knew how he was.
I mean, if he didn’t make it, I was sure there would be an entirely different sort of uncomfortable sensation to deal with, but the uncertainty had my nerves feeling all frazzled.
I’d overheard the paramedics telling the police which hospital they were going to, so after feeding Frida, and checking her water bowl, then turning on the TV to keep her anxious self company, I set off in that direction.
Each step had my anxiety ratcheting up, but I tried to fight it back as I moved into the hospital, then requested to see Kylo. My brother.
I wasn’t a good liar.
But the hospital staff seemed too busy to worry about trying to confirm my statements, as they gave me a visitor’s patch, and sent me in a direction.
To the intensive care unit.
Intensive care.
That, I knew, meant things were very serious.
But it also meant he was alive.
Alive was good, even if he had a really long road to recovery.
“You’re his sister?” one of the nurses asked, dubious.
And, yeah, you had to admit that the two of us looked nothing alike. I was fair, he was dark-haired. He was tall, I was short.
But genetics didn’t mean that much in the days of hair dye and mixed family units.
“Half brother,” I clarified. “We only have each other,” I added, hating the way the lies tasted in my mouth, but knowing they were the only way I was going to be able to see him. Or get information that might help lessen my anxiety. “Is he okay?” I asked.
To that, the nurse pressed her lips together as she reached up to tighten her brown ponytail.
“Your brother was in surgery last night,” she said. “There has been… extensive damage. I think you’d better wait to talk to the doctor about that.There was a lot of blood loss, and some complications from that. He hasn’t woken up yet,” she said, seeming to choose her words carefully.
Was he in a coma?
Did she mean that he was… just not going to wake up? Was the damage that extensive?
Something about her stilted language, though, told me she wasn’t going to give me more information than that, instead making me wait to talk to the doctor.
It really wasn’t my business anyway, so I wasn’t going to press for details.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
I knew there were a lot of people who said that if someone is unconscious or in a coma, they didn’t actually hear anything you said. But I wanted to talk to him anyway. Even if all it did was make me feel better.
“Of course,” she said before taking me through the process of getting into a gown and a mask before finally letting me into Kylo’s room.
The room itself was small and dominated with Kylo’s bed. And the scattered equipment all around him. Behind the bed were two stands each holding several IV bags, dripping fluids and medications into his eerily still body.
Kylo himself looked different in his blue and white hospital gown, the white bedding seeming to wash him out. Or, more likely, that was the blood loss.
Whatever it was, he still looked ashen, which made his dark tattoos stand out all the more.
Other than his pallor, though, he didn’t seem that hurt, considering.
But that was just because his injuries were below the blankets, hidden from view. God only knew what things looked like under there.
The room was silent, save for the soft beep from his monitor, and my footsteps sounded entirely too loud as I made my way to the side of the bed.
“See?” I said, feeling weird talking to someone who wasn’t conscious, but figuring that if there was even the slightest chance that he could hear me, it might be nice for him to hear a familiar voice. “I told you that you were going to make it,” I said, already feeling the sting at the backs of my eyes, the choked up feeling rising in my throat.
I could feel the nurse’s gaze on me, but she said nothing as she checked his fluids and monitors before silently making her way back out, sliding the big plexiglass door as she went.