I awoke to the sterile smell of cleaning chemicals. As my eyes fluttered open, fluorescent bulbs blinded me, causing me to squint and blink several times before I could finally keep my eyes open. Even so, my head pounded when I tried to take in my surroundings.
It was a setting that I was all too familiar with: a hospital room. This time, though, there were no visitors. Instead, lying in the bed beside mine, hooked up to as much equipment as I was, was Noah.
My heart sank. His neck was in a brace, and his right leg had been set in a cast. Bandages, now stained bloody, had been wrapped around the crown of his head and several other parts of his body.
I tried to sit up, instinctively wanting to comfort Noah, but a pain shot through my head, back, and arm. I groaned and collapsed back onto
