I can’t meet his eyes. Instead, I look back at Dominic. Bones carries the same pain I do, and every time I see it reflected back at me, it hurts more.
“No change,” I whisper, my voice cracking at the end. “Where’s Temperance?”
“Getting coffee,” he sighs, dropping into the chair on the other side of the bed.
We sit in silence for a few moments, then Bones reaches into the inside pocket of his cut and pulls something out.
When I see the small piece of paper in his hand, everything inside me freezes.
I take it from him slowly, reverently, like it might crumble if I move too fast, like it’s sacred. ‘You’re fearless’is written across it, the letters curving in that familiar way I know by heart now.
How?
“Found it in his office today,” Bones says gruffly. “It clearly belongs to you.”
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. I don’t know how I still have any left.
“There are more,” Bones adds. “I’ll send one to you every day, the way he used to.” He lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes his head. “I don’t even remember how many times I had to break into your bookstore to leave those notes when he was out of town.”
My heart folds in on itself, stealing my breath.
Wake up, Dominic. Just wake up already. It’s been long enough.
Ghost
The Cell
The walls feel alive around me. The concrete shifts with each heartbeat, the air thick enough to chew on. I sit on the uncomfortable slab they call a bed, elbows on my knees, eyes closed. The hum of the light above me died hours ago, leaving the cell in deep silence.
It’s too fucking quiet in here. The pain eats away at my soul.
Am I still a man, or am I just a monster?
I can almost feel the darkness moving closer, like a slow, heavy tide crawling up my skin, whispering things I don’t want to hear. It’s in my lungs, my head, my fucking teeth. It reaches out like the tentacles of a kraken, ready to pull me under. To swallow me in one gulp.
But a sudden sound makes it tremble and retreat. It’s soft. Beautiful. Like the first note of a song that’s been haunting my mind for too long and now it’s finally ready to get out. It cutsthrough the black, threads through the cracks in my skull and settles behind my eyes.
Adora.
I see her, clear as day — that smile that always looks like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She’s standing in front of me, eyes warm, head tilted the way she used to when she caught me staring like a fool.
My chest tightens. I don’t dare open my eyes. If I do, she’ll vanish. If I do, I’ll have to face the fact that she turned out to be my destruction — not my salvation.
So I just sit there, breathing her in. Holding on to the sound, the light, the faint trace of warmth that still remembers me. That still remembers Dominic.
The darkness doesn’t feel so heavy now. It’s not gone, but cracked open, just enough to let her in. Just enough to keep me breathing.
Week Three
Adora
“The doctors say there’s no reason for you not to wake up anymore,” I say through clenched teeth, staring at the blank wall across from his bed. “They’ve been saying that for days.” I scoff softly. “But of course you’d drag this out. You always need to be dramatic.”
I sneak a glance at Dominic. He’s not intubated anymore, and he looks better, but somehow that just pisses me off more.
“I got papers in the mail today,” I continue, exhaling slowly. “We’re officially divorced now, Mr. Zayas. The state says so.” My laugh comes out thin. “So you need to wake the fuck up and throw a tantrum about it.”
I take his hand, thumb brushing over his fingers, tracing familiar patterns I’ve memorized over these endless weeks.
