Master [s.m]

49.

•shawn•

For the next hour or so, doctors and nurses come check on her. I don't really know what they're doing but they make sure she's alright.

The nurse is left and she gives some Vaseline to Rebecca to put on her lips.

"I'm glad she's okay." Nurse Tamra smiles at me, and I send her a weak smile before she leaves.

I practically run back to Rebecca on the hospital bed. She has a smile upon her features and she looks like the sun.

Her hair is lightly starting to curl, her big brown eyes are bright. She looks so tired, but so beautiful. I've never seen beauty like her.

"I missed you." I hug her. She smells just like this place.
"How long has it been?" She asks, looking up at me.

"Almost two weeks. You can't even imagine how hard it was for me." I sit on the chair beside the bed and stroke her hair back.

I still can't believe this is happening.

In my heart, I knew she would wake up. I would never accept her being dead, but it still seems surreal. The whole thing is surreal.

"God, that was the scariest experience of my life." Her eyes drift away from me, and I can see her small body start to shiver.

I shush her and soothe her by caressing her cheek with my thumb. "You don't have to talk about it. All that matters is that you're alive. I promise I'll keep you safe from now on. The day I don't keep you safe is the day I die."

She nods her head but her bottom lip starts to quiver, indicating she's about to break down.

I instantly get on the space on the bed beside her and hold her in my arms. She silently cries, will tears escaping her eyes.

I want to talk to her about what she said to me before she went into surgery, but all that really matters at this point is making her feel better.

Someone like her can't handle something like this.

If I was the one with guns pointed at me, I would've shrugged it off like it was nothing.

That's one of the things I love about her. She feels emotion in so many different aspects and ways.

Minutes go by, her sniffles turn quieter and her body goes even limper than it already was.

Her small head is placed perfectly on my chest with her hand holding my arm. Her breathing is slow, and it's the only thing I'm listening to. She breathes from her mouth, with her chest lifting up high every time she breathes. A small string of saliva is falling from the corner of her lips.

Although she seems so peaceful, I'm a little afraid she won't wake up again.

*

Days go by, and we are still in the hospital. She spends her days in bed, doing as the doctors tell her, and I spend the days trying to entertain her the best that I can.

She doesn't smile as much, laugh as much, and she just seems so sad all the time.

I try my best to make her smile, but she only cracks one once in a while. And it's always a weak and pathetic smile.