°Jeremyās POV.°The hallway outside her room was too quiet.It wasnāt the kind of quiet that brought calm. It was heavy, unnaturalālike the air itself was holding its breath. I hesitated with my hand on the door handle, my pulse thudding unevenly in my ears. I had prepared myself for the sight I had become too used to: her lying there, small and pale, tethered to those machines I hated but depended on because their steady rhythm meant she was alive and in good health.But when I pushed the door openāThe sound hit me first.A sharp, continuous alarm. The heart monitor, shrieking into the silence, cutting through me like a blade. Its red lights blinked, urgent and accusing, screaming for someone to notice.My eyes followed the noise, and then I saw.Blood.It stained the white sheets in patches, bright and raw, still fresh. The IV pole leaned at an odd angle as it dangled, its line disconnected, dripping useless drops on the floor. Wires tangled across the mattress as if ripped away in
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°Amyās POV° The world was dark, heavy, and quiet when I first slipped away. I didnāt feel the ground under me anymore, I didnāt feel the cold air of the forest, or the ache in my chest. It was like floating in nothingness. My body didnāt belong to me, and for a moment, I wondered if I was gone for good. ThenālightāIt was blinding, sharp, and stabbing into my eyes. My lids fluttered, heavy as bricks, but I forced them open. A ceiling came into view, pale, with tiny cracks along the edge. The smell was sharp, like chemicals and bleach. Something beeped beside me in a steady rhythm, filling the silence. It took me a second to understand where I was. A hospital. My chest tightened instantly. My throat felt dry, my tongue heavy. I tried to move, and thatās when I noticed the tubes and wires. An IV was stuck into my arm, taped against my skin, feeding cold liquid into my veins. Wires stretched from my chest to a machine beside me, flashing my heartbeat on a screen. I hated it. I hat
Amyās POV.The voices outside my room grew louder, sharp like knives scraping against each other. One was my momās voiceāshaking, breaking, and filled with fear. The other was deep and rough, carrying something cold inside it, like he had swallowed gravel.I sat on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, my door only half closed, but every word slipped through that small gap like whispers meant to find me. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would break my ribs.I had been thinking about the baby again, the small life inside me, the one I had no idea how to care for. I wasnāt ready to be a mother. I was just eighteen. I still wanted to figure myself out, and not to be someoneās everything.But ready or not, I had decided one thingāI wanted this baby. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was stupid. But if no one else in this world stayed, if no one else chose me, this child would. I would be their mother. I would fight for them, even when I had no fight left for myself.Still, a part of me wish
°Amyās POV°The silence stretched between us like a wall I couldnāt climb.Mom sat right beside me on the bed, holding the test in her hand, her thumb brushing over the pink lines as if touching them could change what they meant. Her lips pressed together, her breath shaky.I couldnāt lift my head. My hands were clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles hurt, but it was the only thing keeping me from breaking apart completely.Pregnant.The word pounded inside my head over and over, making my chest feel heavy.Mom finally whispered, āAmy⦠sweetheart⦠whose child is this?āHer voice was soft, but I could hear the tremor in it. She wasnāt just askingāshe was pleading.My throat tightened, as heat burned behind my eyes. I shook my head slowly, the words trapped inside me.She leaned closer, her eyes searching mine. āAmy, please. I need to know the truth. Have you found your mate?āThe question cut through me like a blade.My lips parted, and my voice was barely there when I said, āNo
°Amyās POV°I stayed frozen in that restroom longer than I should have. The sound of the music and laughter bled faintly through the walls, but I felt far away from it all. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and cheap perfume, and my hands still shook as I splashed cold water on my face.My reflection looked pale, and terrified. My lips trembled as I pressed them together, willing myself not to cry in the middle of prom night.I couldnāt stay there forever.The door creaked open, and Christianās voice carried in softly. āAmy? You okay in here?āI quickly wiped my mouth with a tissue and tried to straighten myself. āYeah,ā I croaked, even though my throat still burned. āJustā¦not feeling well.āChristian stepped inside, cautious but concerned. His brows knitted as his gaze swept over me. āYou look pale.āI gave a weak smile. āGuess the punch didnāt agree with me.āHe didnāt look convinced. His hand brushed my elbow gently. āCome on. Let me take you home. Promās not worth it if you