When I finally found his room, I gasped in horror. His face was swollen beyond recognition, purple bruises covering every inch of visible skin.
"Ethan, what happened to you?" I sobbed, my green-gold eyes filling with tears.
He didn't answer. He just stared out the window, his expression one of utter despair.
"Who beat you? Did you call the police?" I choked out between sobs.
Still nothing. I kept crying, babbling about how worried I was, how we needed to report this, how his mother needed to know.
"Could you just leave me alone?" he finally snapped, his voice hoarse.
I wiped my tears, trying to compose myself. "I want to stay and take care of you."
"No need," he rejected coldly. "I hired a nurse. You go."
His dismissal hurt, but I could see something was deeply wrong. This
