The room is too quiet, so I walk the halls at night. My lungs hurt. I move slowly.
Everything is too quiet. I trace a finger along the walls. I do this for hours. I know theyâre thinking about putting me on sleep meds after my wounds heal and I can be taken off antibiotics, but I donât want them to. I need to be awake and aware.
He could be anywhere. He could be here.
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