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25 aug
Friday
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It had been a week since Zayvior slipped into that coma, and each day felt longer than the last. Every morning, I found myself at the hospital, holding onto the faint hope that today might be the day he wakes up. The doctors mentioned small improvements here and there—little things that gave me just enough hope to keep going, but it wasn't enough to ease the guilt weighing heavy on my chest. I missed him more than I could ever explain. We never went this long without talking, and the silence was eating me alive. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all my fault.
My mom knew what was going on and had been supportive, helping me dodge questions from my brothers and dad. She understood I wasn't ready for them to know everything, especially since I'd been secretly trying to track down the person who did this. They needed to pay for what they did, and I was ready to make that happen, no matter the cost.
I left the house that morning, my mind on autopilot as I made my way to the hospital. Lately, I'd been distant, even with Zayvior's friends. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to them—it was just that every conversation felt like a reminder of what I hadn't done yet. What I needed to do.
When I arrived at the hospital, I went straight to the elevators, pressing the button for the fifth floor. My stomach twisted like it always did when I was on my way to see him. I never knew what to expect. Would today be the day? Or would it be just another visit where I sat beside his bed, praying for a miracle?
As I stepped into his room, I was met with the familiar faces of Ace and Tray, leaning against the wall, looking like they hadn't slept in days. Great.
"Hey," I mumbled, keeping my voice low. They nodded back at me, their eyes filled with the same exhaustion and worry I'd been carrying around.
"What did the doctor say?" I asked, hoping for some good news.
"Still making improvements, but there's always that chance..." Tray trailed off, his voice heavy with uncertainty.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the screen—it was one of my dad's old friends. Probably calling with some information about who was behind the shooting. This wasn't the first time I'd gotten calls like this, and it always seemed to happen when I was around Ace and Tray.
"Um, sorry, I gotta take this," I said quickly, stepping out of the room before they could ask any questions. I could feel their eyes on me as I left, probably wondering why I was always slipping away like this. But they didn't know what I was planning. They didn't know how far I was willing to go to make sure the person who did this to Zayvior paid in blood.
Once I was out in the hallway, I answered the call. "Yeah?" I said, keeping my voice low.
"Got some news. Heard some talk on the streets," the voice on the other end said, gruff and to the point. "Might have a lead on the shooter."
