My Husband 387
GUILT JOSH
The hallway outside her room felt too long. Too bright. Too goddamn sterile. My footsteps barely made a sound against the polished floors, but inside my head, everything was roaring. Laura was alive.
The words kept looping over and over, but my body hadn't caught up yet. It felt like if I let myself believe it too much, the universe would take it away again.
A doctor had tried to stop me at the nurses' station, spitting out words like stable condition and still on a ventilator, but none of it registered. I'd shoved past them, past the concerned voices, past the fucking security guard who grabbed at my arm. Nothing was going to stop
me.
And then I saw her.
The doors burst open, loud voices calling after me, but none of it mattered.
My heart stopped.
Laura.
Her pale, thin frame was bundled into a wheelchair, her body swallowed up by hospital-issued clothes that hung from her like she was nothing but skin and bone. Her hair was limp, her cheeks hollowed, and her skin too pale under the harsh 0.00%
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fluorescent lights.
But she was looking at me.
Those eyes-those beautiful fucking eyes-were staring right at me, and I swore I felt something crack wide open in my chest.
Laura was alive.
from her, that she wasn't the same. She
security guard grabbed at me again, but I shoved him off, barely sparing him a glance. My feet moved before my
sank down next to her, my knees hitting the floor hard, but I barely felt it. My hands found hers, wrapping around them like
so thin.
kissed them, kissed her wrists, her knuckles, anything I could reach, my
needed to. I needed to feel her. To prove to myself that this wasn't some cruel
"Laura," I choked out.
reached for something at her side. The nurse beside her passed her a small whiteboard and a marker, and with a shaky grip,
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Hi, babe.
sound left me. Something between a
pull myself together, but it was useless. I was smiling even as my vision blurred, even
have when guilt was
from my mouth like I had
my voice raw, broken. "I-I fucked up, Laura.
breath hitched, my hands tightening around
head, squeezing
to stop the words. "I should've held out.
dropped my head onto her
fingers-moved through my hair, soft and
should've been begging for forgiveness, for a chance to
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