Born To Die

I dont eat for days

The sterile smell of the infirmary made my stomach churn, but it wasn't the smell that kept me rooted to the chair. It was Luke—lying in that bed, unconscious, pale as death. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only thing that reassured me that he was still breathing. Everything else felt like a nightmare.

"Isla, you need to eat something," Chris's voice was gentle but firm, his hand resting on my shoulder as he tried to coax me into standing.

I didn't move. I couldn't move. Every part of me was frozen, just like the part of my heart that had shattered the moment Luke fell. What if he didn't wake up? What if this time, the monsters had taken too much from me? First Richard, and now this. I could feel the terror rising in my chest like an ocean tide, threatening to pull me under.

"Come on, Isla," Clarisse added, her voice more insistent. "You can't keep doing this. We need you too."

But I couldn't bring myself to listen. I couldn't do anything but sit here, my eyes never leaving Luke's face. The deeper I stared, the more I felt like I was slipping into a memory that I couldn't escape—my dad in the hospital, lying there so still and cold. It had felt like a lifetime ago, but the sharp, painful memories were as fresh as if they'd just happened yesterday. The smell of antiseptic, the steady rhythm of the machines, the look on the doctors' faces when they told me there was nothing they could do.

I couldn't go through that again. I wouldn't. Not with Luke.

But I didn't want to admit how terrified I was, how much I feared losing him.

I felt someone sit beside me, and for the briefest moment, I thought it might be Luke, waking up to reassure me that everything was fine, that I didn't have to be scared anymore.

But it wasn't. It was Annabeth.

"Isla," she said softly, her voice quiet but unwavering, "you need to take care of yourself. Luke would want you to. You know he'd never forgive you for giving up on him."

"I'm not giving up," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I just... I can't—"

"Then let us help," she said, her hand slipping into mine. "You don't have to carry all this by yourself."

I nodded but didn't speak. I couldn't find the words. The tightness in my chest was suffocating, and I felt like the walls of the room were closing in on me. I wanted to cry, to scream, but I couldn't. The fear was too thick, too paralyzing.

For what felt like hours, I sat there, watching Luke's motionless form, unwilling to move an inch. His features were so still, almost like they belonged to someone else, and I couldn't help but feel like I was losing him.

And then, just as I thought I might break from the weight of it all, I felt a shift in the room. A soft groan broke the silence.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. My heart raced as I leaned forward, not daring to believe what I was hearing.

"Luke?" I whispered, barely able to breathe the name, my voice cracking as I said it.

He groaned again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was unfocused at first, then slowly zeroed in on me. His lips moved, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Isla..."

Relief hit me like a wave, and without thinking, I grabbed his hand, squeezing it so tightly that I was afraid I might hurt him.

"Luke! You're awake! You're okay!" I exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

His lips curled into a faint, tired smile, his eyes still cloudy with exhaustion. "I think I'm okay... for now."