𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 (2)

031 || Hope

Max's POV

My world was caving in.

I struggled to breathe, my chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside out. 

I could hear muffled voices around me, but they seemed far away, as if I were underwater. My emotions had become so unbearably painful that I had become... numb.

The tears that had been flowing freely down my cheeks had dried up, leaving behind a salty residue. 

My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and despair, unable to make sense of the chaos that was consuming me. Desperation gripped me tightly, threatening to drag me down.

Her gentle smile, her laughter, the way she looked at me with such love and warmth—all of it was slipping away. 

The thought of a future without her by my side was incomprehensible. How could I go on living when my entire world was crumbling before me?

My heart ached with a pain that felt physically tangible, as if it were being torn apart piece by piece. I needed her to stay, to fight to stay with me.

Anger.

Anger was consuming me.

It burned within me like a wildfire, this anger. I felt it coursing through my body, making my muscles tense and my blood boil. 

I wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But I couldn't. I couldn't make a sound. I was trapped in this prison of my own making, this cage of despair and hopelessness.

The image of her face flashed before my eyes, as if etched onto my mind, her features soft and ethereal. Her eyes, so full of love and light, stared back at me, unblinking. They held me captive, refusing to let me look away.

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over once more. I could feel my heart breaking all over again, as if it were made of the most delicate glass.

The pain was unbearable, and yet, I couldn't seem to find the strength to let go. I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of anguish, my lungs burning for air that would never come.

Hope.

What a foolish, fragile, wonderful thing. 

This is what it means to love. This is what it means to truly feel alive. 

The pain, the anger, the despair...

They were the price I was willing to pay, over and over just to get to hold her hand, to feel her breath on my skin, to hear the sound of her laughter.

My body felt weak. As if every muscle, every sinew, had been drained of its strength. I could feel the crushing pain in my chest, the tightness in my throat, and the burning in my eyes. I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, to escape from this world that seemed to have conspired against me.

I wanted to crumble.

I wanted to cave.

I wanted to surrender.

There were so many things I wanted to do. To say. To her. But the words were trapped inside me. All I could manage was a hoarse whisper, a plea for her to fight, to not give up.

I held her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against my own, willing it to never grow cold. I wanted nothing more than to make everything better for her, to take away her pain.

If I could have swapped places with her, I would have done it without a second thought. It would be me lying in this hospital bed. But I couldn't. I was powerless.

Hopeless.

Her face looked peaceful, almost serene. The steady rhythm of her breathing was almost hypnotic. 

She deserved better than this, than a life spent trapped in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and the sterile smell of disinfectant.

I looked down at my battered hand, the blood on my knuckles still fresh from the crash. My head was still throbbing from the impact, but it didn't compare to the pain I was feeling now. I closed my eyes, trying to find some solace in the darkness.

I found none.

I lowered my head onto the bed, my chin resting on her leg, as I struggled to keep my tears at bay. Her hand remained in mine, her fingers intertwined with mine. 

I was trying desperately to find comfort in her touch, but it was gone.

This wasn't my Sabrina. She felt cold. So cold. Her hand was in mine, but it was limp, lifeless. I couldn't hold on any longer.  My tears finally spilled over, hot and bitter on my cheeks. I felt them fall onto her blanket, but I didn't care.

My whole world was crumbling around me, and I felt as if I were drowning in my own despair. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't function.

I was crying again.

Like a fucking child. Weak. Pathetic.

I wanted to scream just as much as I wanted to silently wither away. I wanted to be anywhere but here, and yet this was the only place that made sense. By her side.

I pressed her hand against my face, trying to find her warmth. Her skin felt cold against my cheek. 

I couldn't help but think that this was all some horrible dream, the same twisted nightmare that had been haunting me since the day I realized that I couldn't live without her.

Why her?

I could lose everything. But not her.

Oh god, not her.

I held her hand tighter, my fingers digging into her skin, as if, by sheer force of will, I could make her wake up. I wanted to wake up too, from this endless nightmare. 

I wanted to be back in our apartment, lying in bed with her, the sun streaming through the window. I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine, her warmth seeping into me. 

I wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile, taste the sweetness of her lips.

The beeping of the machines seemed to grow louder, more intrusive, as if they were taunting me with every passing second. The sterile smell of disinfectant stung my nose, made my throat ache. I wished that I could run and hide, escape from this place that was slowly stealing her away from me.

I couldn't let go.

I wouldn't.

Her hand was my lifeline, and I clung to it with everything I had. I would never give up on her. Because even the smallest chance meant there was still hope.

But right now, as I looked at her pale face, all that was spiraling through my mind were two words. Two words that I had held onto like a lifeline for so long. I remembered the shape of her lips as she uttered them.

I promise.

She promised me. I had asked her to never leave, and she had promised me. And even though she hadn't broken it, I still felt betrayed. Betrayed that she didn't tell me she was sick earlier. I could have done something, I could have supported her.

Instead, she had tried to protect me. Like she always did. Like she always would. I hated her for it, but I loved her more.

Please don't leave me.

You promised...