Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
The room feels too empty, too quiet. I’m used to Raven’s inimitable presence filling the space, her positive energy, her stubborn determination. Without her, it’s like the house has lost its heartbeat.
I settle onto the sofa in the corner of the room, unable to leave. My eyes scan the now-tidy space, landing on the freshly made bed, the folded blanket at the foot. It’s all ready for her, but there’s no guarantee she’ll come back. I lean back against the sofa, my hands gripping the edges. What if I’ve lost her forever? The minutes stretch into hours, each one more unbearable than the last.
Eventually, exhaustion takes over and I drag myself to my own room, collapsing on the bed without bothering to change. Sleep doesn’t come easily, though. The image of her, so small and tired in that hospital chair, stays with me, haunting me as the night stretches on. And in the background the pitiful sound of her father’s labored breathing—it all replays in my mind, over and over.
I glance at my phone on the nightstand, tempted to text her again. To check on her, to make sure she’s okay. But I know she won’t respond. Even if she was awake, she’s too stubborn, too angry, and I’ve done too much damage for her to let me in again so easily. I just hope she is sleeping.
The hours tick by until I give up on sleep entirely. I return to her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The weight of my mistakes, my regrets and my fear of losing her for good presses down on me. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can.
But I know one thing: I’ll do whatever it takes to try.
CHAPTER 41
RAVEN
I wake up to the sound of my mom’s soft but firm voice. She’s standing at the foot of my father’s bed, her arms crossed and her face set in that determined expression I know too well. “Raven,” she says, her voice brooking no argument. “You need to go home and rest. You’re no good to anyone if you make yourself sick.”
I shake my head, sitting up straighter in the chair beside my dad. “I’m fine,” I insist, my voice hoarse and unconvincing. The truth is, my body aches, my head feels heavy, and every breath seems to scrape against my chest. But I’m not ready to leave.
She steps closer, her gaze softening as she places a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, please. Just go home, get a change of clothes, and rest for a little while. You can come back later, but right now, you’re running yourself into the ground for no reason. You’re not helping your father by becoming sick yourself.”
I want to argue, to tell her that I need to be here for Dad, but the exhaustion is too much. Reluctantly, I nod. “Fine. I’ll go home, but only for a little while.”
“By the way, Earl brought you shoes and a change of warm clothes.”
I stare at my mother in astonishment. “He did?”
She smiles. “Yeah. That’s what husbands do for their wives.”
I take a deep breath. “Yup. I guess so.”
The cold air outside makes me shiver as I step out of the hospital and into the taxi. By the time I get home, I’m trembling, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I force myself up the stairs and into the shower, hoping the hot water will help. Instead, it’s the final straw. My legs feel weak, and I barely make it to the bed before collapsing, my head is spinning and my chest feels so tight it feels as if I can barely breathe.
Nora’s voice pulls me from a restless haze. “You need to eat something,” she says gently, placing a tray of food on the bedside table. Her concern is evident in her voice.
I manage a few bites of soup, its warmth comforting me as it slides down my throat. But even lifting the spoon feels like an effort, and eventually, I lie back down, too drained to argue when she fusses over the duvet and turns up the thermostat of the heater. The room grows warmer, but the chill in my bones refuses to leave.
A sharp knock on the door comes later, startling me out of a half-sleep. The sound feels louder than it should, reverberating in my pounding head. I open my eyes to see the local doctor stepping in.
“Hello, Raven,” he says.
“Hello, Doctor,” I croak. “I’m actually pretty fine. Probably just need a couple of days of bed rest.”
“Well, someone looks like they are feeling poorly and it’s not me.”
His examination is brisk but thorough, and the look on his face when he’s done confirms what I already suspect.
“You’re not fine, Raven,” he says firmly. “You have pneumonia. If you don’t rest and let us treat you properly, this could get very serious.”