Damon's POV
Blood. So much f*****g blood.
I pace the sterile hospital waiting room, my once-white shirt now a sickening canvas of crimson—Kira's blood, Brenda's blood, hell, maybe even some of mine. My hands haven't stopped shaking since I carried Brenda's limp body into the ambulance.
The doctor's words still ring in my ears: "I'm sorry, Mr. Lockwood, we did everything we could."
Everything they could. What a load of bullshit. They couldn't save her. I couldn't save her.
I slam my fist against the wall, ignoring the startled looks from the nurses at their station. The pain feels good—real—something to focus on besides the crushing weight of failure.
"Sir, please," a nurse approaches cautiously. "Other patients—"
"Sorry," I mutter, not meaning it at all.
I drop into an uncomfortable plastic chair,……
Waiting for the first comment……
Please log in to leave a comment.