Trust Me

Luke

It's been a few days since the news of April's discharge. Not that I had any doubts that she would make it, but it's like a load has been washed from my shoulders. Sweet relief. Yet, as much as I hate myself for it, there is another weight, ten times the size of the last, that settles on me now.

I know that people in comas, no matter how unresponsive they may be, can hear every word from the other side, the side of the living. She was in the grey area, the 'happy' medium between life and death. She looked the cloaked figure in the eyes and turned her back. 

Now I'm stuck with the recurring thoughts of:

Will I see her again?

If I do see her, what do I say?

What will she say?

I want to see her again. I really do.

But I don't.

Does that make me a terrible person?

Are the same thoughts torturing her?

The worst thought that kept piercing my skull while she lay in that bed was:

Did she ever actually trust me?