Hold On I Still Need You

-Keefe's Struggle-

Keefe's POV:

Sitting alone in the cold, sterile hospital hallway, the silence around me is deafening. I look towards the door to Foster's room, but I can't bring myself to move a muscle. Hours pass by—how many, I can't even tell anymore. But I can't leave. I can't tear myself away from the thought of her behind that door, getting worse as the minutes tick on.

Foster's condition keeps spiraling out of control, and every update feels like a punch to the gut. The reality of it hits harder than anything I've ever experienced. This is worse than any horrible thing my parents have done to me. At first, I thought I could handle anything thrown in my path, but this... watching her fight and suffer like this, unsure if she will make it out—it's too much.

I'm always the one who cracks jokes, keeps things light, brings hope when everything feels dark, using that to hide the pain I'm feeling. But I couldn't hide it today. Today, there was nothing left in me. No quick wit to hide behind. Just fear and grief. The kind of grief that feels like it's swallowing me whole.

Rubbing my temples, trying to breathe, trying to pull myself together. It's far too hard when the thought of losing her feels so close, so real.

Far too real.

I can't stop pacing the hallway, each step heavier than the last. It feels like gravity has increased tenfold. This battle is one I can't fight. No clever words, distractions, or plans can fix this. I've never felt so helpless. Since her condition worsened, I can't handle anything. I feel weak, lost in a dark place with no way out. This is cold, this is empty, this is numb. I've lost my way around.

I fear that Foster may not survive this ordeal, that she may not reach the light at the end of the tunnel. These thoughts are consuming me, eroding every bit of composure I have left. It feels like everything is slipping through my fingers like sand. I can't shake the image of the silence that would follow her last breath. The thought of a world without her, the girl who means everything to me, feels like a never-ending nightmare.

I find myself reflecting on the small moments: her laughter, her smile, the warmth of her hand in mine. These things once came effortlessly, but now I realize how much I took them for granted. If she doesn't pull through, I fear I may never experience those simple joys again. The thought weighs heavily on me, causing my chest to constrict as if I'm struggling to breathe.

I am overwhelmed with guilt as I feel like I have let her down. I should have been able to protect her from this suffering. She has always been so strong and resilient, and I should have been the one to shield her from this illness. I feel powerless as I watch her fight for her life, wishing I could have done more to help her.

A voice in my head is trying to comfort me, reminding me that Foster is strong. She has overcome impossible challenges before and emerged stronger each time. She has survived more than anyone should have to endure. But right now, I can't cling to that hope. It feels too fragile, too fleeting. What if she doesn't make it this time? What if this time is different?

I don't know how to feel—how to balance the hope that keeps whispering in my ear with the fear that's eating me from the inside out. I want to believe she'll pull through, that I'll hear her laugh again, see her smile, feel her hand in mine. But every time I close my eyes, the fear that I'll never get those moments again drags me back into the darkness. I don't know how to live in a world without her, and yet, I can't shake the feeling that I might soon have to.

Time slips away quickly, and before I know it, I'm outside her room, my heart racing. I hesitate to enter, not wanting to face the reality of her condition, but I know I must. With a deep breath, I push the door open.

Inside, Sophie lies there, looking more frail and weak than ever before. Her skin is pale and almost see-through, her eyes lacking their usual sparkle, weighed down by fatigue. Despite it all, when she sees me, she musters a faint smile, a shadow of her usual self. It's still Sophie, the fighter who has never given up.