How The Bad Boy Wooed Her

☓☓ chapter twenty-five ☓☓

☓☓ chapter twenty-five ☓☓

Seconds turned into minutes.

Minutes turned into hours.

And hours into days.

Everything seemed to wheeze by in a blur.

Everyday, different people - friends and relatives, dropped by to visit her.

But today, just like any other day, I sat by her bedside, clutching her cold hands in my own, begging her to wake up for real already.

For the past few days, she has been drifting in and out of consciousness, courtesy to the drugs in her body - disallowing me to have a proper conversation with her.

I wasn't even able to ask a simple how are you feeling before she shut down again.

I forced myself to stay awake, even though my eyelids felt extremely heavy.

What if she wakes up and you're not the first one there for her? I kept reminding myself.

I'm sure eye bags were already starting to form, but that was the least of my worries now.

The door opened again, and a pair of unfamiliar faces greeted me, sullen expressions painted on their faces.

Relatives, I thought.

I scooted to my side a little, trying to give them more space. But my hands remained latched onto Sky's.

I refused to be more than three feet away from her. Call me stupid or call me stubborn, I don't even care anymore.

The couple offered me a meek smile, before standing on the opposite side of the bed, and muttered a prayer for my angel.

From the way they left me to be by myself, I was positive that someone had already informed them about my current state of mind.

They left a few minutes later, leaving me alone again.

I took this time to take a good look at my girlfriend. Her eyes were tightly shut - so tightly shut that frown lines were starting to form on her forehead. Her lips were chapped and pale, and her skin was losing its normal glow.

People always said that when someone is asleep, they tend to look more peaceful and serene.

But she wasn't.

Sky looked like she was in pain.

A lot of pain.

And that pained me a lot.

The feeling you get, when you see the one you love suffering, yet you can't do anything about, but wait, is extremely torturous.

Wait for what exactly? I have no clue.

Wait for her to wake up?

Wait for her to recover?

Wait for her to talk to me again?

The possibilities were endless; leaving me in a state of both depression and blankness.

From the way she looks physically, I have a gut wrenching feeling about her condition.

Would she ever recover?

The lights illuminating the words 'Operating Theatre' suddenly shut off, and the automatic door clicked open.

I passed a sleeping Chase over to River as silently as I could, and stood up hastily.

The sudden movement after such a long time sitting down cause my mind to go dizzy, and my sight to blank out.