Thieves of tomorrow (Short story)

Chapter 9: news

* 4 days later*
I haven't moved from Ivan's bedside. And he still hasn't woken since he blacked out 4 days ago.
Once Tara , David and I had stopped the tears we sat in silence while the doctors whisked Ivan away to surgery.
Then we waited for 6 hours until he was wheeled back in, we then all jumped up and frantically bombarded the doctors with questions until we started repeating ourselves.
The doctors had cut away the infected flesh leaving a gaping hole in his chest that they tried to cover with skin graphs. His arms were fully healed now all the scratches and cuts healed quickly by the werewolf blood flowing through his veins. Apart form that we knew hardly anything else. The doctors came In and out frequently to check on his progress and his vitals.
Each day was different he started out getting better, then The next day he would be worse, then he would recover again and so on.
We waited for the doctors final analysis which they said would take at least 2 days so now we're beyond frustrated as we're on our fourth day with waiting for the analysis as to whether we should start mourning or celebrating.
So here I am now sat at Ivan's bedside waiting for the results to be announced. I've had supportive words and hugs from various pack members throughout the time we've been in here. I know it's affecting them to maybe just not as much, they really don't want to loose their alpha.
I look down at Ivan's face and can almost see his bones, his skin is becoming translucent at the lack of nutrients and the infection eating away at his body from the inside out. His hands are thin and frail and his skin feels paper thin like it'll rip if I move it to much. His hair is still missing in some places were he started pulling at it. His chest hardly rises when he breathes you have to looks really closely to see any kind of movement.
Today is the worst he's looked since he got here and I'm starting to get worried he won't make it if he gets any worse than this.
I sleep here in the hard hospital chair each night with him and it's terrifying, he suffers from terrible hallucinations that the infection gives him and he spends the whole night screaming and thrashing around, he ends up causing more harm to himself when he scratches himself it hits his already frail bones on the side of the bed, causing himself yet more bruises and broken bones. So at night now we have to restrain him so he can't harm
himself. It's heartbreaking to see him like this.
I wish it was me not him.
(Sorry this was a bit rushed will edit if later. Please comment and vote. Thanks for taking the time to read this)