Gerald held my hand tightly, then slowly led me out of the bed. My eyes were dry now, and the tears could no longer quantify the pain. I walked slowly behind him, my legs feeble, my chest heaving hard from the pain in my body and the pain in my heart.
I grasped onto the wall, my fingers pressing it, and I walked slowly out the door. The first thing I saw was Fabian. He was sitting on the waiting chairs across from the room, his elbows resting on his thighs, his face buried in his hands. I felt my jaw clench, my fists tightening. I slowly turned away, swallowing, my eyes blinking rapidly.
I had expected Gerald to say something, but he didn't, and slowly, he took me out of the hospital.
I sat in the back seat, my eyes closed, the evening breeze sifting through my hair. Even this reminded
