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.
taken from her, that she wasn't the same.
glance. My feet moved before
knees hitting the floor hard, but I barely felt it. My hands found hers, wrapping around them like if
were so
knuckles, anything I could reach, my
much, afraid she'd break, but I needed to. I needed to feel
"Laura," I choked out.
nurse beside her passed her a small whiteboard and a marker, and with a shaky
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Hi, babe.
left me. Something between a laugh and
pull myself together, but it was useless. I was smiling even as my vision blurred, even as my chest ached
as much as I could have when guilt was busy filling up my ribs, crawling
at once, spilling from my mouth like I
"I-I fucked up, Laura. I
hitched, my hands
shook my head, squeezing my eyes
unable to stop the words. "I should've held out. I should've believed-I
head onto her lap, my shoulders
beneath me, but her fingers-her beautiful, delicate fingers-moved through my
been begging for forgiveness, for a chance to
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