Cleo
Duncan was lying in a hospital bed. His skin was pale, and his hair was limp. He had deep dark circles beneath his closed eyes. Tubes attached to needles were laying in a row up his arm. He had wires and monitors taped to his bare chest. A sob broke out when I saw him take a labored breath.
“He’s breathing on his own for now,” Dr. Enzo said. “But we are prepared with ventilators in case he gets worse. It’s a good sign so far Queen Cleo.”
“Th-thank you,” I managed to get out between sobs.
Anthony dragged the visitor chair to the side of the bed and guided to me to the seat. I plopped down beside Duncan and wept into my hands. What I would do to just hear his voice and say my name.
“Let’s give her some privacy,” Chloe said to the group. “We’ll be out in the waiting
