[Elara]Every minute feels like an hour. Every hour feels like a lifetime.Through the small glass window in the door, I watch as Cora’s little chest rises and falls with every breath she takes. Her tiny body is connected to so many tubes and machines; it breaks my heart over and over again just looking at it.Why? What did she do to deserve this? Why does a child so small have to go through something this painful and traumatic? Why is it that, even after I wish her good health and a long life first thing every morning, she’s still fighting just to stay alive?I press my palm flat against the glass, the cold surface stinging my skin, desperately wishing the glass wasn’t there at all. Wishing I could trade places with her, take every needle, every tube, every ounce of that silent suffering into my own body if it meant she could just wake up, reach for me, and come home.“Elara?”Damon’s voice comes from behind me, and for the hundredth time I admit to myself how much I hate him.Becaus
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